./ 




Class __J^S:l^ji_ 

Book .12^<P_S7. 

GopghtN" \')(i(o 

COPyRICIIT DEPOSIT. 



BY THE SAME AUTHOR 

Two Gentlemen in Touraine. 

i^By Richard Sudbury.) 
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der, ;^3.50 postpaid. 
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(L. C. Page & Co., 200 Summer Street, Boston.) 
English Edition. 

(Published by H odder & Stoughton, London.) 

The Spirit of Love and other Poems. 

Limited Edition., numbered, crown 8vo, cloth, gilt 
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(Charles Gibson, 9 Charles Street, Boston.) 



THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 
AND OTHER POEMS 



(Jfia.^:>^ 




rhe 

SPIRIT OF LOVE 

AND OTHER POEMS 
bv 



CHARLES GIBSON 




BOSTON 

PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR 

1906 






COPYRIGHTED 1906 BY CHARLES GIBSON 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



LIBRARY Of congress! 

Twe Copies Received 

DEC 5 1906 

^ Cepyrifirht Entry 
CUSS /\ XXc, No. 
COPY B. 



OF THIS EDITION 35O COPIES HAVE BEEN 
PRINTED OF WHICH THIS IS NO../.V^^.Z. 



0^^^^^ 



CONTENTS 

Dedication . . . . . . .2 

The Spirit of Love . . ' . . . 3 
Orpheus and Eurydice . . . . .21 

Hero and Leander . . . . . 28 

The Loss of Laeone ..... 34 

The Coming of Genius . . . . 41 

Sonnets : 

First Love ...... 45 

Lost Love . . . . . . 47 

On reaching the age of Twenty-four . . 48 

On reaching the age of Twenty-five . 49 
Poems on English Subjects : 

Coronation Anthem. To King Edward VII 

and Queen Alexandra . . . '53 

The Britons ..... 55 

The Spectre Lord . . . . . 60 

Odes after the Style of Anacreon : 

Ode I. To Zeus .... 77 

Ode II. To Apollo .... 78 

Ode III. To Cupid . ... 79 

Ode IV. To Cupid .... 80 

Ode V. To Venus .... 81 



VI 



CONTENTS 



Ode VI. To Bacchus . 


. 83 


Ode VII. To Hermes 


84 


Ode VIII. To Minerva . 


. 86 


Ode IX. To Ceres .... 


88 


Ode X. To Pan . 


. 90 


Ode XI. To Mirth .... 


92 


Ode XII. To Love 


• 93 


^atrains : 




First Series ...... 


97 


Second Series ..... 


. 106 


Miscellaneous Poems written in 1897-1898 : 




Epithalamium ..... 


. 115 


To a Fountain ..... 


120 


The Faun ..... 


. 124 


The Cloud 


128 


Snow-flakes ..... 


. 130 


On Board the Venture .... 


131 


Return of the Constitution 


• 133 


Stanzas written in Westminster Abbey . 


135 


A Dirge 


. 138 


To Fame ...... 


140 


To Spring ..... 


. 141 


To the Spirit ..... 


142 


To Music 


• 144 


Poems written to Persons and Places : 




Hockwold Hall .... 


. 147 


Holland House 


150 



CONTENTS 



vii 



On a Picture of Charles I at Bridgewater 

House 
Shottesbrooke Park. Sonnet . 
Castello di Brazza . 
Villa Maria .... 
Green Hill . 

Music at Mrs. S . 

Song of the West Wind . 
Death's Messenger 
Epithalamium. Sonnet 
To Adelaide. Sonnet . 
The Green Book of Early Poems : 
Dedication 
The Green Book 
New Year's Eve 
How Fast Time flies . 
The Aurora 

Sonnet .... 

Lines. Written on a Sabbath Morning 
Sonnet .... 

Love's Knowledge . 
Departure .... 
On a Little Child . 
The Chatelaine of St. Aignan 
The Fairy Princess . 
To My Lady Love 
The Question 





• 154 


• 


157 




. 159 




161 




. 163 




165 




. 167 




169 




. 171 




172 




• 174 




175 




. 175 




176 




. 176 




178 


rning 


• 179 




181 




. 182 




184 




. 185 




186 




. 189 




192 




• 193 



Vlll 



CONTENTS 



A Bridal Song 


193 


Summer Hours ..... 


195 


The Enchantress . 


196 


Memory ...... 


198 


The Stream 


201 


Futurity ...... 


202 


Anniversary 


. 204 


To our Mother 


206 


To Lady Mary on her Birthday 


208 


Dreams ...... 


209 


Lines written at Sunset 


. 209 


L'Envoi 


210 


Unfinished Poems and Fragments : 




Lines written in Normandy 


. 213 


Lines written in Dejection 


215 


" To be without " . 


216 


Life 


216 


Lines written after waking from a Dream 


• 217 


Envy and Discontent .... 


218 


Happiness ..... 


. 218 


The Death of Summer 


219 


Autumn ...... 


. 220 


Lines on Nature ..... 


220 


" To breathe sweet odors " 


. 222 


Lines written by the Wayside 


222 


Life and Death .... 


. 224 


" To love yet ne'er be loved " 


224 



CONTENTS 


ix 


Fragment ...... 


225 


" Leave me but a child " . 


225 


" So young and yet so old " . 


226 


Overture 


226 


Lines to Conte Carlo Emo . 


227 


Touraine 


227 


Lines written at Versailles 


228 


Lines written at Hamilton 


229 


Stoneover ...... 


230 


A Welcome 


230 


Epitaph ...... 


231 


The Inn ...... 


231 


Thanks to an Old Woman . 


232 


Unrequited Love 


232 


Bridal Fanfare 


233 


Couplets : 




Otis. Sorrow Joy . . . . . 


234 


Wealth. Art and Poverty 


235 


Love. Work. Success . . . . 


235 


Poetry. Painting. Sculpture. Music 


236 


Letters in Verse : 




A Letter. To Mrs. P and Mrs. B 


- 239 


A Letter. To a Lady . . . . 


241 


A Letter. Sent with an Ode to Anacreon 


242 


A Letter. To the Poet Butterworth . 


244 


A Letter. To an Unconscionable Flirt . 


245 



THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 



^^^^^ 



DEDICATION 

To those who love, yet ne'er have knovm 
Whence their true love hath strangely grown; 
To those whose hearts do hear withal 
Celestial voices sweetly call, 
From far on high, new thoughts of love. 
That lift their very souls above; 
To all who love, or sad, or gay, 
To these I dedicate my lay. 

1896. 



rhe 

SPIRIT OF LOVE 

I 

O Truth! there must be some such thing as 

Love. 
The poets breathe its Hfe; the minstrels sing. 
But I have knovm it not, alas, for me! 
And those for whom I felt some passing strain, 
Some blind intoxication twine the heart; 
Ah ! They have fled or vanished through the air. 
Each hour when I had thought their Love was 

near! 
But yet there must be some such state on 

earth. 
Some power to elevate and to adore 
One other being; thus to lift above 
The fact of life and the familiar way. 
That some one hath strange power within this 

world. 
To make earth Heaven and Heaven sublime, I 

know; • 
But yet where is she; yea, when may she come \ 



4 THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 

II 
Through the world I wander, 
I find not what I seek; 
Yet I seek and wander. 
Those I would most love 
Would not of me, that speak; 
Yet I long for Love. 
I long, for now my soul still languisheth. 

Some unknown spirits of the air are they. 
Those beings who may give me happiness ? 
I know not; yet I sigh for their sweet ways. 
I love them; but alas! too true the thought; 
Whene'er I tear these mists from off mine eyes. 
They vanish; they are gone; and I remain. 
For so it is with those who live below; 
That they shall weep with life's unending load. 
And yet I cry at times; I weep and mourn. 
Lest I shall ever wander on my way. 
Without this Love that I would soon discover. 

Thou to whom the hearts of men are known, 
Thou who dost guide their steps to sacred 

halls, 

1 pray Thee tell me where my love doth spring! 
Thou knowest those on whom it e'er may 

fall. 



THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 5 

Who feel the breath of Love, within their souls, 
* Panting in rapture for its place on high. 

Thou Dear One, the font of human joy, 

1 pray Thee send one soul to make me glad! 
Thou sendest! At the thought of such a state 
I am transported by those sounds that sing 
Of some new happiness and music. 

Ill 
There are strange things that bring this sweet 

desire, 
To draw some other being near the soul. 
We cast aside the sorrows of our lives. 
And leap out into the unknown, new-born; 
For there our dreams of youth assume their place. 

The soft, sweet season brings its own caress. 
Thus to transport us through the heavenly air. 
We live in Love's untutored bliss, confined 
In some unending hour 'twixt Light and Shade. 
Time is divided in an unknown space, 
That knoweth not of haste nor toil nor woe. 
O Peace! Now hast thou come within my soul! 
No longer am I bound by the cold chains 
That tear my empty heart. Peace, thou hast 
come 



6 THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 

Within some garden fair, some soft retreat! 
Oh, well may I rejoice that it be here. 
In the sweet dreiam of an intoxicating love! 
Oh, well may I sip honey like the bees 
That fly within the mid-day sun full warm. 
And there rejoice that Time shall hold them 

not! 
Come, let us away and likewise; 
To dance upon the moonlight stream, 
Where waters sparkle; 
To sink beneath them, 
And to rise again, 
Man made with God, 
An unintelligible thing withal. 
To those that are not made for lives of Love! 

IV 

To sing upon the bank, 

And laugh with thee, 
Were enough sweetest of all things, to thank 
Simplicity, thy gift to me. 
To run a race within the rushes. 
Finding my loved one in the bushes 
Of some soft arbor — skip and play! 
'T is a bright and sunny day! 



THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 

Come, let us find a fountain clear, 
Where we may sit and listen, dear, 
To the "drip, drop," of waters still 
Endeavoring to fill 
A basin, with its marble row 
Of caryatides below. 

Come, light Spirit, skip and play, 

'T is a merry day ! 
Shades of eventide draw near: 
Rest thy sweet head upon mine ear; 
That nodding, I may hear the sounds. 
If in thy sleep a shadow frowns. 
To take thee back to streets and towns, 
Then will I away, away, 
And bring thee back again to day. 

Is it not, then, more than joy 

Once again to play the boy. 

Once again with Life to toy ? 

Ah, happiness without alloy! 
Come, let us tell to one another 
Half the secrets of a lover; 
Half to-day and half to-morrow; 
Aught of joy and naught of sorrow; 
Whisper in each other's ear 
All we feel, and wish, and fear. 



THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 

('T is a kiss upon thy brow; 
'T is what lovers all allow.) 

Oh, Thou art indeed a fay, 
With affection thus to play! 
But were I the God of Love, 
Would I not hover far above. 
And lighting on thee like the dove, 
Would show thee his sweet way. 
Yet again rny kisses shower 
On thy lips in this sweet bower, 
Where the nightingale doth sing; 
Tiny birds upon the wing 
Songs of summer to us bring. 
So, light Spirit, skip and play! 
For 't is a merry day! 
Let us run the lover's race. 
Bees or butterflies to chase. 
Hither, thither, through the air. 
Seeking honey everywhere. 
Ah, sweet one, there is a breath 
Of Heaven in thy joy that saith : 
"Come to live with me for aye. 
One half the mortal, half the fay." 
Thus do we laugh, and sing and love. 
Am I alive, or shrined above ? 



THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 9 

V 

Tell us those fairy hours, when in our youth 
We lost the frequent train of common thought, 
That carries all men toward convention's fate; 
And found ourselves alone with Love's ideal. 
In some unknown and sunny way, that leads 
Far, far from the enticing haunts of men. 
A soft, dim light shed radiance over all, 
And slowly we emerged in Godlike form. 
But suddenly there came some note of scorn; 
And in a moment all was fact again. 
Our sweet imagination still returns 
Into the cold and stilted forms of life. 
There are strange moments in our onward march. 
When these dull things of earth shall come to 

pass. 
And must we ever wander thus alone; 
Or shall we find our mystic happiness ? 
Shall we return to darkness and despair; 
Or may we pierce in time the heavy gloom. 
And thus emerge into the silvery light ? 

Strange are these thoughts, to hold us as we 
dream 
Our way, o'er the world's wide expanse of life! 
The imagery of bliss conceals her face, 



10 THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 

Until one day she bursts upon our gaze, 
And we arise to Heaven in mortal frame. 
For weary cycles of evolving years, 
Thus may we wait till we shall live; and yet, 
As we approach those portals of our joy. 
All care, all misery, and all woe the while. 
Fade from our gaze, and we behold our love! 

VI 

Whispering, is heard a voice. 

Bidding our souls at last rejoice: 
"Hours dark in lonely places. 
Filled with stern and angry faces, 

Spent in agony or woe, 

Fade away as on we go. 

Hard, unfeeling, unrelenting 

Natures now are near repenting. 

Half in play, yet half in fun, 

Our life and love have just begun! 
Tripping o'er the silent grass, 

(Where bushy thieves do swiftly pass). 

We may find some gentle spring, 

Where birds above us oft would sing. 

Oh, let me thus entwine mine arm 

Aboiit thee, to protect from harm 



THE SPIRIT OF LOVE ii 

Thy tresses falling in the wind 
That through the forest oft we find. 
Oh, let me here imprint the sign 
Of lovers — more to me than wine, 
Or fair ambrosia from the sky — 
Upon thy lip, and let us fly 
As old Time plays his merry tune 
Upon the fast departing moon. 

Suddenly to pause and ponder 
O'er some tiny stream, 
Wherever fancy points the finger; 
Thus mayhap to dream: 
There are no higher powers o'er us. 
Who shall say thee nay; 
There are no pleasures oft before us. 
More than Nature's way. 

Come, honeyed flower. 
My loved one, come! 
Rest us within this peaceful bower. 
And let us sleep like some 
Who know but innocence, and seem 
Softly to drink and dream. 

VII 

O night, thou comest over our remorse: 
Thou sendest us to join dark shades beneath. 



12 THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 

Thou windest shrouds of love about our path, 
And we become in time half dumb, half blind. 
We know our fate, and weep in misery 
That it should hang within the future's scale, 
While we repine, imprisoned in our youth. 

Our fettered life still lingers in its cell, 
Ere we may wander forth and find our own. 
Time passes on; our jailers may not go. 
Years cover our heads, and we remain 
Upon this threshold of our destiny. 
Oh, turn, ye hours of pain, from deep despair. 
Covering our souls with canopies of hope ! 
Pass o'er the silent current of our life. 
And bring to us new harbingers of light! 

Some soft pale votaries of day appear. 
To steal into a dawn that breaks beyond. 
Dark shadows sink; and we arise in truth. 
Lo! Night is at an end! Our life is here! 

Sweet one, sweet one, I hear a sound: 
A buttercup shines o'er the ground, 
A golden goddess from her mound. 
She steals into our drooping eyes, 
And lashes suddenly unties. 
A ray of sunshine peeps between 



THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 13 

Some leaves of purple-tinted green. 
Lo, Phoebus to Aurora springs! 
The night has taken to her wings. 
A lark has risen with the sun. 
The owFs allotted time is done. 
Some songs are ringing in the ear. 
Come, love! Another day is here. 

SONG I 

"Away with our dark repining; 
Night is to the day resigning; 
Off with weeping and despair; 
For Life and Love fly through the air!" 

SONG II 

"To rise upon a bed of moss, 
And sleep from our eyelids toss; 
To gaze into beloved eyes. 
And know simplicity is wise; 
To sink beneath the sparkling pool, 
Where life is watery and cool; 
To sport upon the bank is well. 
And Heaven our simple joy shall tell." 



14 THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 

VIII 
Stay! shall we linger o'er the grass; 
Or fly toward sunny shores, and pass 
New days in our untutored bliss, 
Where breezes soft the brow shall kiss ? 
Shall we remain to drone or fly ? 
Shall we, dear one, live thus, or die ? 

Oft 't is our fate through life to choose 
Between Love's vict'ry, or to lose 
Half happiness, half joy of all 
We feel; and to obey the call 
Of our ovm dark, degrading pool, 
Casting aside some higher goal. 
And yet sweet voices call the heart. 
Each hour that we would fain depart. 
Each hour that we draw forth the sword. 
There comes from each some lingering word. 
Some note that sings: "Remain, remain!" 
While we were best in warrior's train. 

O moths that flutter 'neath the hght. 
Why beat those wings that ne'er should fight .? 
Why, in his hours of bliss should fay 
Become poor man, to toil by day ? 

Stay but one hour! We '11 laugh, my love! 
And join those realms of joy above. 



THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 15 

Where none do spend their days in woe: 
Nor burn vain fire, nor slay vain foe! 
Here may we rest us side by side, 
And view the Sun's departing, Hng ring bride. 

Within these bowers of emerald hue 
We twain shall sip the evening dew. 
Where flowers and leaves delight to dwell. 
Where ferns do line some shady dell. 
And there our love shall find the way 
From heart to soul, that winds each day 
New garlands round the hours of May. 
Come thus, my love; come, sip the dew 
Beneath these bowers of emerald hue. 

IX 

For as we pass those vales of bhss, 
At each new branch our eyehds kiss. 
As moss-grown stones their charms attend, 
With many a joy our day shall wend. 
With many an half-grown fear we flow 
Through forests, where the wind doth blow, 
And where our hearts lock with each hour, 
This sacred stream of heavenly Power. 
Oh! long may we remain in Love, 



i6 THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 

Here through the waning hours to rove, 
Where'er dim Fancy leads her swains 
Of passing nioods and wak'ning strains! 
Where'er these flowers of loveHest green, 
Where'er their hght or shade shall screen 
Our evening blush, our morning bride, 
Long shall thy blessings there abide! 

For were not Venus well repaid 
To weep for fair Adonis' shade; 
To once have known eternal joy ? 
Anemones her pains employ. 
With wind-swept consolation torn, 
'T is best to love though we shall mourn ! 

Oh, change our fate, thou guardian Time, 
From liquid plain to sparkling wine. 
From dark'ning years to days of light; 
From griefs and fears to features bright! 
I 'd rather know one hour of Love 
Than years of riches, thrones above ! 

And say'st thou not so, Sweetheart, 
That death our pleasures ne'er shall part ? 
Nor peace nor war the silvery train 
Of our enraptured being pain ? 

Come hold these boughs above the head, 
Where Gods with Goddesses do tread. 



THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 17 

To give to all who lay their heart, 

Entwined with Joy's erotic art, 

High o'er sweet Cupid's flowering fane, 

Where Hymen lays the heavenly train! 

With feasts Olympus shares our life. 

While Jove descending joins his wife. 

With strains of music hold these boughs, 

That we may swear eternal vows! 

Hark ! Where these groves their lights impart 

To Gods or fairies, as they start 

To cast all care from off^ their brows. 

Their magic kisses Jove allows. 

Hark! For the chorus sounds aloud. 

Immortal winged creatures, bowed 

With joyous hymns or praises cry; 

Their lutes, their pipes beside them lie. 

They feast, they gambol, as they sing. 

Striking the earth upon th' extended wing. 

Here Juno turns the peacock's wreath. 
While Iris' colors rain beneath. 
And Vulcan with the sunbeam's ray. 
These fairy showers would fain portray. 
With songs, with symphonies around. 
Celestial revels here abound. 

Come, Janus! *Ope' thy portals wide, 



i8 THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 

That we may enter with the tide! 
These feasts of Eros make me glad, 
And wake my Amatoriad! 

X 

Pipe up, old Pan, thy tuneful lay. 
And cheer the earth's departing day; 
For our delight shall scarce begin 
Till these faint beams of light grow thin. 
"These beams of light grow thin!" we cry. 
But when through light did Cupid die ? 
By moon, by sun, by light, by shades, 
My love shall live through radiant glades! 
My heart would join celestial airs. 
That sleep within ethereal lairs! 

For all that men may say or do. 
Nor once would I be found untrue; 
Nor once should hours pass by in vain. 
If thou didst cry to aid thy pain. 

Come, dream, Erato, o'er our grove; 
Do thou recall sweet lines of love. 
These boughs shall wave above our heads. 
While Venus fair Hyperion leads. 
Wave off the dawn, ere we shall fly 
From this fair mount where none may die! 



THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 19 

O creature who art born to-day, 

To die to-morrow, go thy way. 

If thou hast known one thought of Love, 

Thy soul shall float through fields above! 

For our first hours of joy are aught, 

And pain or tears indeed are naught 

When we have tasted fire divine. 

That sparkleth more than foaming wine; 

Yea, more than wine or perfumes fed 

By leaves from oflF the violet's bed! 

Now fades the world, its evil ways. 
With toils and torments of our days; 
Now vanish years of longed-for rest. 
When we have felt our spirit's test! 
By man came man; by God came Love, 
That we might all partake thereof. 

And ye who err; our hearts may dwell 
With gentler pity o'er the cell. 
If they have once but known thy fire, 
All men shall tune this sacred lyre. 
Whose strains do reach the human breast. 
Whose dirge these weeping eyes attest. 
If e'en from Adam all may fall. 
From Eve, O prude, likewise recall 
That thou who sendest men to Hell, 



20 THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 

Oft in thy polished conscience fell! 
For if this sacred fire doth burn, 
How may we well its victims spurn ? 
Hark! All do sin through many a way; 
If ne'er before, then first to-day! 
And, human kindness pouring forth, 
Light all our lives upon this earth! 
The Gods make less of lover's crimes 
Than one where virtue but begrimes! 

Behold! Life's curtain falls. And we 
Stand forth disclosed, where all may see; 
And thou, cold virgin, who wouldst cry 
'For shame,' from off thy tribune fly! 
Nor judge, nor shall ye e'er condemn. 
Till death these tides of human life shall stem. 

1896-1898. 



< 3^^^ ^^.^..^^^^'.^^'^^^r^': ^ 



ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE ^ 

O OFFSPRING of Apollo and the Muse; 

Tuned in sweet melody, thy lyre 

Lies o'er the ground; the airs diffuse 

Fancies of rnagic fire. 

Mortals around thee gather oft, 

Charmed by thy love-awak'ning strains; 

And beasts that once were wild are soft, 

Held in harmonious reins. 

With thine enchanted song the trees 

Bend in new grace, thy music to employ; 

They fan the heavy-laden breeze. 

The rocks relax, in an untutored joy. 

Ah ! Thou hast found new notes of life. 

New sounds of vernal love, 

That wake, thus to receive thy wife 

Within the shrines above. 

But hark! These nuptials to attend. 

The Gods in chorus bring 

^ The story of Orpheus and Eurydice has been treated by both Virgil 
and Ovid, and may be found in their translations. 



22 ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 

Their songs of praise, their charrns to lend, 
Their ornens, with the ring: 
And hymns arise through perfumed airs, 
That join with pure celestial prayers. 

Yet, with each blessing, Hymen throws 

Some note to chill the vein. 

Speaking of cares, of future woes. 

Of joys whose Hght shall wane. 

His very torch doth smoke the skies. 

Bringing deep tears into the eyes. 

Alas, these omens fraught with fear 

Bring fair Eurydice to die. 

E'en in those days where Love should cheer 

Its objects 'neath tl\e 'nubial sky. 

When wandering with the nymphs, her own. 

She meets with Aristaeus, seen 

Through branches of the forest grown 

With ivy and with shadowy green. 

Alas! O fair ill-fated maid. 

Wooed thus within the mournful glade. 

Do thou make haste to turn beyond 

These shepherd glances, far too fond! 

Do thou regain thy lord's sweet breast. 

And there in arms of Orpheus rest! 



ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 23 

Make haste, Eurydice, to flee, 
Ere nymph and God thy ruin see! 
Oh, thou wert better turned to stone. 
Than through dishonored passion won! 
Turn thou, in fear, from these thick groves. 
And seek the soul that thee most truly loves. 

But wert thou swifter than the air 
That blows sweet Orpheus' strain, 
I know not how thine ovvn despair 
Could stay the fatal train. 
Wounded upon the foot, poor nymph, 
Thy flight is turned to swoon. 
To death, to death! alas, no lymph 
Shall bear to thee its boon! 
Ah! Curs'd be the day that saw thee fade. 
Far from the eye to join th' eternal shade ! 
"Alas, beloved one!" she cries, 
"Hast thou no knowledge of my fate.^'' And 
thus she dies. 

Orpheus in frenzied grief divine. 
Pours his sad music to the shades sublime. 
And through the airs his magic-wak'ning strain 
In new melodious harmony winds out its train. 



24 ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 

The Gods take pity on the mournful soul, 
And Orpheus sues to seek grave Pluto's goal. 

A cave near Taenarus, the w^orld's high helm, 
Leads to the entrance of the Stygian realm. 
Oh, fearful sight! that there shall greet the eye. 
Thus to proceed, the v^eeping Orpheus nigh! 
Through crowded phantoms (earth's departed 

souls). 
Through depths of Tartarus, whose secret holes 
Lie deep within its subterranean knolls; 
And by that dog whose snake-like hair descends, 
A wriggling cluster o'er three heads — it lends 
Some poisoned semblance to Medusa's face — 
Up to the throne that Pluto's Queen would grace! 
There did Proserpine recline beside 
Her Lord, and Orpheus' fairest strain deride. 

Yet sang he songs of true and mightier love. 
Than e'er incited man who lives above 
To deep descend into the realms of death. 
"A serpent hath Eurydice of breath. 
Divine and true, of life so sweet deprived. 
Whence hath my breast this greater grief de- 
rived. 



ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 25 

Oh, hear me then, Gods of the under-world, 
Around whose throne the Agonies He curled! 
For Love, for Love's own fair, unsullied shrine, 
Perrnit these arrns my wife once more t' en- 
twine!" 

At these soft sounds, half with his Lyre at- 
tuned. 
The Gods through Orpheus' strain in joy com- 
muned. 
The ghosts shed tears adown their white-robed 

forms. 
The thirsty Tantalus no longer storms. 
And e'en Ixion's wheel rests firm and still. 
The daughters of Danaus cease to fill 
Their sieve with water. Sisyphus lies tamed 
By music's veil! Eurydice is claimed! 

Forth, from the shades new-found, she wanders 

forth. 
Oh, triumph of fair Orpheus' truest worth! 
Limping she comes, her wounded foot the 

while. 
Shielding as best she may with woman's wile. 
And Orpheus falls upon her neck in tears 



26 ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 

Of joy most rapturous, mingled yet with fears 
Lest his sweet wife to earth shall still refrain 
From passing, and in Pluto's realm remain. 

"Ah! Mine own flesh! should we not pass be- 
yond 
The boatman Charon, glancing, e'er too fond 
Of thee, thy pardon now I crave before 
The fatal path we take, and close the door. 
Now shall we leave these dimly trodden halls. 
Seeking a sunny world, through ghostly walls. 
Yet while we travel o'er these sombre ways. 
The moments shall extend to hours or days 
Until the price of freedom shall be paid. 
When I may look once more upon my maid. 
Follow, sweet wife, then follow near my form, 
That thy true love may cheer, and keep me 



warm." 



His lyre upon his arm, his wife behind. 
The radiant Orpheus leads, the Gods to mind. 
And on through many, a passage dark and worn. 
His footsteps now are heard — and now are 

gone. 
At last the outlet to the upper world 



ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 27 

Is seen beyond. Afar his fears are hurled! 
In youthful triumph at such joy regained, 
His reason told not that some space remained. 
In thoughtless love, he turned to reassure 
His heart that love was ever near and pure. 

Oh, fatal moment of dehght thus torn 
From Fate inexorable! All is gone! 
All lost, all faded from the sight away! 
Eurydice has vanished ere the birth of day! 
With arms extended for one last embrace. 
Her form is wafted from the tragic place. 
Again returned to chasms of the dead ! 
Again the portals close above her head! 
Alas! Poor Orpheus! Sing thy dirge anew. 
The Loves shall hear thee; but the Loves are 

few. 
Where Pluto reigns the shades do dwell beside 
A sombre throne, that greets no living bride. 
One disobedience to its laws imposed 
Shall turn to warfare souls that were reposed. 
One error o'er man's passage to the light 
Shall cast in Heaven its vision from his sight. 

1899. 



HERO AND LEANDERi 

In Abydos there dwelt a youth divine, 
Fair as the Gods, — a form with noble line. 
In stature tall, his bearing rnoulded grace 
With rnanly attributes and radiant face. 
High o'er his head there rose the star of Fate, 
Bearing immortal fame, yet fame too late; 
Casting its magic rays about his youth. 
To wreath in pain the lines upon his mouth. 

O fair Leander, fanned by Hero's smile, 
Happy art thou while free from Neptune's wile! 
Not yet the God of seas and oceans hath 
Meted to thee the measure of his wrath. 
Not yet th' advancing years their watery train 
Of journeys brought, for Pluto's final gain! 

Thy loved one lives beyond Europa's shore. 
Hero the priestess Venus would adore. 
And in her God-Hke beauty, bathe in songs 
The shrine of Sestos, that to her belongs. 

^ Compare The Loves of Hero and Leander, translated from the Greek 
of Musaeus, by Fawkes. (Chalmers' English Poets, vol. ii.) 



HERO AND LEANDER 29 

Thus Hero's beauty Asia's son endears, 
And Love, in conquering, conquers all his fears. 
He seeks to pass the swiftly rnoving strait, 
That would divide hirn from his chosen mate, 
And in youth's energy his limbs extend. 
To breast the waves his arms would nightly 
bend. 

Trembling with love, he plunges to the deep. 
His form submerged, the billows round him leap. 
The distant shore a gentle light extends. 
As thus to Love encouragement it lends. 
O fair Leander, plow these treacherous waves! 
Leap through the ocean to the shore it laves! 
There, wandering near the beach, her duties o'er. 
Steps Hero loved; now lingering no more. 
Her eyes with dewy spray lie half encased, 
Her heart no mortal suitor has defaced; 
While from the tower is reared a burning torch. 
That guides Leander to the temple's porch. 
Awake, O Eros, and defend this youth 
Who braves the sea, to seek thy fane, forsooth ! 

A cry fair Hero gives. She holds the brand 
All burning yet within her quivering hand. 



30 HERO AND LEANDER 

She leaves the tower, and toward the sloping 

beach 
Twines her swift way, Leander soon to reach. 
While he, full dripping with sea foam and weeds, 
Arrived on Sestos' shore, no beacon needs. 
In arms of love, half moist as yet with spray, 
He folds his mistress, and remains till day. 
Then must the priestess Venus* altar burn; 
Her lover e'en to Abydos return! 

Again, when even-shades are pierced with light. 
And golden rays fall from the torch so bright, 
Th' heroic youth his watery passage makes; 
Again new pleasures from dear Hero takes. 
Nightly, the joys of Love first brought to man, 
Reward in sacred airs Leander's plan. 
The Hellespontean flood he nobly plows; 
And Hero's long embrace fair Fate allows. 

Oh, with what joy those moments pass in 

air 
It seems; so shall the Gods declare 
That Eros new delights may give to man. 
And cheer with Love's own warmth this treach- 
erous span! 



HERO AND LEANDER 31 

Sad then the thought, that Heaven to earth 

should come; 
But to depart and leave an empty home! 
Oh, gravest hour that darkens life! Fd cry 
In pain unstayed, when love from love must fly! 
When Death, th' insatiate reaper, lifts his scythe; 
In grief unutterable man shall writhe! 
Tears shall gush down the maiden's rosy cheek. 
Such' anguish e'en the strongest heart would 

break, 
That pierces to the soul's bright azured realm. 
And in its course the very skies would taint and 

overwhelm! 

One night a tempest rose; the sea grew rough. 
While yet Leander sank within its trough. 
And lab 'ring fiercely there, he strained each 

nerve. 
Yet to no purpose would his effort serve. 
While Neptune angered strove against his 

strength. 

Like to be a feathered victim in its length. 
Each wave that bore him high soon cast him 
down 



32 HERO AND LEANDER 

Full many a fathom deep, left there to drown! 
Ah, Venus ! Stretch thine arm from Sestos' shore, 
And, in sweet pity, unto life restore 
This ardent lover, battling thus with death. 
Sown in dishonor, now raised in perfect faith! 
Hast thou no power to stay the fatal storm, 
That carries mis'ry in its lowering arm, 
Nor love for Eros* votaries, yet to cast 
This trident from the tempest's maddening 
blast ? 

Alas! The priestess! She has left the shrine. 
To seek Leander 'neath the conquering brine; 
There to deplore the Fates' unwonted woe. 
That would deprive her of the joys they know. 
Despair and agony and grief are marked upon 
Those heavenly features that Leander won. 

Take then thy prey, O watery realms! Alone, 
The maiden shall remain o'er sand and stone! 
Those tears of grief, that flow in dewy length 
The beach along, bear witness to thy strength. 

Now Love shall in its noontide parted be! 
Dead in his youth, Leander rides the sea! 



HERO AND LEANDER 



Z?^ 



A lifeless form, his beauty marred by pain, 

The waves have washed him to Europa's main. 

And Hero from her tower, alas, beholds 

The ocean's shroud that her beloved-one folds. 

In passion's deep disconsolate embrace. 

No more the world feels she that she can face, 

And seeking only her Leander's fate. 

She leaps into the waves ere these abate. 

High from the tower's top — a quivering mass — 
She falls beside her lover's form; to pass 
Beside his shade to realms unseen, untold. 
Where never souls are sad, nor hearts grow cold! 

There shall the crowns of Eros wreathe their 

brows. 
While from their goblets only nectar flows; 
And shrines to Venus stand; the Goddess lives, 
High o'er th' Olympian mount, her blessing 

gives. 

1899. 



THE LOSS OF LiEONE 

ARGUMENT 

The Goddess of Fortune came to earth, in the 
form of a beautiful maiden named Laeone. A 
shepherd, who stands for man in the poem, fell 
in love with the goddess; but just as he thought 
to possess himself of her love in return, she 
disappeared. The poem opens at the shepherd's 
grief for her loss. He turns to the Wizard of 
Rocks for counsel, and is directed to take with 
him his Staff of the East with its silver crown, 
to assist him in his search. He seeks over the 
world for his beloved, accompanied by Nobaea, 
the companion of sorrow; but unable to find 
her, he returns to his native land, and there in 
his home, beneath the shadow of a tree, is his 
long sought, his Laeone. 

It is the intention of this allegory to show 
that Fortune, which all men love, is in their own 
hands if they look for it among the facilities 
which God has given unto them, rather than 
seek it abroad, where are often unhappiness 
and vain striving. 



THE LOSS OF L^ONE^ 

Ah, me, for the loss of Laeone ! 
My lovely Laeone ; 
Weep, weep for the loss of Laeone! 
Her form has departed the northland; 
Ah, when to return! 

Hast thou gone to the west or the southland. 

New secrets to learn ? 

Hast thou flown to the Mid-Winter's palace. 

His mistress to be ? 

Ah, thine eyes would I see. 

My beloved, my beautiful maid! 

Lo, the Wizard of Rocks, he hath said : 
" Take thy staff with the silver upon it. 
Thy staff of the east, and away 
To the mountains, and there shall thy chalice 
Of golden relief rise to thee." 

^ The Loss of Laone was suggested to the author after reading a transla- 
tion from the Greek of Bion's Lament on the Death of Adonis. The beauties 
of this masterpiece of Greek poetry are too well known to students of the 
classics to require comment here. 



36 fHE LOSS OF L^ONE 

"O staff of the east, then I take thee," 

I cried, and away wound my song, 

My song for the lovely Laeone, 

My wail for the wrong. 

O staff with the silver upon it, 

O staff, with the magic that won it. 

Guide me unto the highland up-passes. 

To fields where the trees shall chant masses 

Above, for this heart that is torn! 

Come, Nobaea; all pleasures are gone. 

Come, Nobaea, my comrade of sorrow: 

O Shepherd forlorn! 

Seek with me, 'neath the hills of to-morrow. 

For lovely Laeone, Laeone the wonderous maid. 

Then Nobaea did gird on his blade. 

And did follow my steps to the north. 

To the lands of all glory and worth. 

O'er the hills, the green valleys. 

Where Heleon dallies. 

To laugh where the river-god plays. 

Ah, these hearts are turned red in the ending 

Of Summer; the glorious days 

Of her sunshine are wending 



THE LOSS OF LJEONE ^7 

Their funeral ways. 

Then through fields of green laurel and sumach/ 

My heart would I trail 

O'er the ground, through the deep verdant vale, 

Through the trees, 

Where the whispering breeze 

Sighs so softly, so wistful, so softly: 

"Oh, where is Laeone ?" 

"Laeone — Laeone," reechoes the vale. 

Then these hearts here around me, so mournful. 

Are bleeding with love — oh, so scornful 

The world that returns 

Death for life! Their soul burns 

With desire to find thee; 

To love, to possess thee. 

To dwell with the beautiful maid. 

Ah! How sweet is this valley^ beneath me. 
Where Heleon plays 

With the water now sparkling with rays 
Of the sunshine. Alas! No Laeone I see. 

^ The Loss of Lceone was written during a week's visit at Warren, Mass. 
The hills of Warren are covered with the "green laurel and sumach" al- 
luded to in Laeone, 

^ The valley "with the water now sparkling with rays" is a pretty bit of 



38 THE LOSS OF L^ONE 

Yea, then far to the southland we'll wander, 

O comrade of sorrow, to yonder 

Far distant deserted display 

Of fair robes, of gay colors, 

Of warmth with sweet odors, 

To lands of perpetual day. 

Oh! oh, for Laeone! Why then art thou gone ? 

My beautiful one. 

Whom I sought 'neath the orange and lime, 

'Neath the juniper tree ? 

Thy sweet spirit I see. 

Haunting the shades, haunting the air; 

Oh, so noble and fair 

When once thou art found. 

And so high o'er the ground 

When lost! Sadly, my sister I see 

When, tired, I lay me to rest 

O'er the desert, and seek there the nest 

Of the ostrich whose friend I would be. 

Oh! oh, for Laeone!^ 

My heart shall repine thee 

rustic scenery overlooked by the windows of the room in which the first 
MS. was written. 

^ The poem itself is purely imaginary. 



THE LOSS OF L^ONE 39 

Fore'er, till thy form I may see. 

Lo! Nobaea, away toward the east 

Have we wandered, and found not the least 

Sign of her whom we sought; 

Only sorrows have brought. 

Far then back to our country we'll go. 

To my birthland I'd cling, 

Fairer songs there to sing, 

And find her whom we know! 

Ah! Look ye my soul o'er the hill. 

O'er green laurel and sumach the rill 

Runs so blithely; thy pleasures shall be 

Its young life, new to thee, 

Here to see. 

And look ye my soul, as we wander 

Again to the vale; yea to yonder 

Dark trees, even fonder 

Than e'er was before; 

Seest thou, O my soul, there in store 

Nobler treasures than man shall possess, 

Nobler joys than are wreathed by success; 

Seest thou not Laeone, 

Thy long lost Laeone, 

Laeone, the wonderous maid ? 

Ah, my comrade, come hither, Nobaea; 



40 THE LOSS OF L.EONE 

O comrade of sorrows, to see her, 

My loved one, once more. 

Now are swieets still in store 

For this poor bleeding heart. 

Here embrace me, my comrade. I fall 

O'er thy neck as we part. 

Feeding now on my love that is all! 

Laeone, Laeone, loved one, Laeone, 
Gladly do I greet thee; gladly do I sing. 
Laeone, Laeone, ever dear Laeone; 
Newer treasures thy return shall bring! 

1899. 



THE COMING OF GENIUS^ 

The sands of all time have held out to our 
fathers 

A future of golden-hued honor and fame. * 

A crown of green laurels the tribunal gathers 

In early youth's image of greatness to name. 

But ah! as we wind o'er the hills and the val- 
leys, 

Our threads of deep destiny, each in their train. 

How the thoughts of our childhood fade far 
from the eyesight. 

And many a year passes by us in vain! 

The sun in its brilliancy sinks to the twilight. 

The angels of hope on their wings through the 
air, 

Have swept circles so wide and so high, we re- 
sisted 

To gaze on their passage, and turned to despair. 

^ It is a curious incident, that The Coming of Genius was written one 
morning in July, 1899, out of doors in the country near Boston, the whole 
MS. being written in about thirty-five minutes and hardly a word having 
to be changed in revising, thus showing the effect of natural surroundings 
upon the mind. 



42 THE COMING OF GENIUS 

"Then cast to the airs with wild columbine 
scented, 

The child of thy bosom, thou soft son of Mars: 

'T is a boy with wild eyes, like the steed of 
Apollo, 

A truant to earth, yea, a friend of the stars!" 

My refrain would I sing, as in sadness I wan- 
der 

Through vales half deserted, half peopled with 
woe. 

And my heart would I give in its fullness to 
yonder 

Poor soul whom bewildering Genius would 
know. 

See him first in the glories of early sensation, 
Breathe in the sweet odors of Heaven, he feels 
To be near and around him. He heeds not 

temptation; 
Nor sees that before the dark Traitor he kneels. 
"Ah! thy steps are so light and thine eyes so 

unhindered 
By Care or Despondency yet to be found. 
That thy dreams are all azured; thy fields lie 

uncindered 



THE COMING OF GENIUS 43 

By Passion's fierce flame, or by stones 'neath 

the ground! 
Still I care not to tell thee thy danger is waiting, 
Half clothed in those joyous delights of the 

mind; 
Its own anguish thy future rewards so belating, 
At times e'en thine honor would linger behind. 
There before thee, I see the dark years in their 

sorrow: 
A train of hard labors, like Hercules' own, 
Are in enmity oft with the gods of the morrow. 
In vain would it seem that thine earnest is sown. 

" Still take heart, O my friend, — for my friend 

I would call thee, — 
Thy years are not ended, thy passage not o'er! 
All the glories of life in their grandeur await thee. 
Behind cast no thought, for the goal lies oefore! 

" Now when all is but darkness, and man has 

no caring 
For pain nor for sorrow, thy God is thy stay. 
From the clouds, like the rainbow in Heaven 

appearing, 
The sunlight leaps forth to enlighten thy way! 



44 THE COMING OF GENIUS 

" Then thine arms shall encircle the love that 

awaits thee. 
Thine eyes shall behold thine own country once 

more; 
And the seas shall roll by, at thy feet in the 

triumph 
Of Truth, that is sown on the cold ragged 

shore!" 
Ah, my heart! hast thou found in the world that 

has spurned thee, 
Some souls like thine own, that are passing the 

main ? 
Take them close to thy bosom and treasure the 

meeting. 
For God leads yet others behind in their train. 

Thus would Genius appear to a world that is 

fleeting. 
And pass to another, where nobler relays 
Of her children are waiting, with powers to 

honor 
These toilers below through their lingering 

days. 

1899. 



SONNETS 

FIRST LOVE 

Oh, thou art sent from Heaven, thou form di- 
vine, 
Enclosing 'neath thy breast a human soul. 
Beating in tune v^ith dreams, that mellowed 

vs^ine 
Would raise v^ithin mankind for some high 

goal! 
Do thou then come to me in this short hour. 
When years of longed-for bliss have sorrowed 

To droop thine eye, with i4:s strange half-grown 

power. 
To whisper nothings faint yet sweetly shy ? 
Ah! Thou are there indeed! My heart would 

beat. 
To ask the question first, then to display 
In each light wave of feeling — to repeat 
Those words that framed their joy at peep of 

day. 



46 FIRST LOVE 

Come, Love, entwine with kisses my warm 

brow, 
And in Love's halo consummate thy vow! 
1898. 



LOST LOVE 

When the gray clouds with blood-red fire are 

stained, 
In Autumn's evening; when the cold air blows 
Across the heart, and life seems filled with foes; 
Then doth this love-lorn soul, with anguish 

pained, 
Seek its dark cave, and find the hours have 

waned. 
Yet would the floods of memory-laden woes 
Fade in resplendent beams of warm repose. 
When Love though lost, returning, is regained ! 
Oh, thy sweet lips that once I pressed; divine 
In rapturous harmony, in heavenly bliss! 
The eyes full soft with sweetness I would kiss. 
And hold once miore thine image — to repine 
Sadly beyond, when joys their place resign 
To cold despair. Surely some dream is this! 

1899. 



SONNET 

WRITTEN ON REACHING THE AGE OF 
TWENTY-FOUR 

Hours and years, have ye thus passed by, 
In seeming innocence my soul to find, 
In some new rhapsody my heart to bind. 
As hfe doth loose its four and twentieth tie ? 
Not thus the vernal joy of youth had I 
Pictured upon the wings of dawn, that wind 
Mysterious circles far above mankind. 
And rise to Heaven as from the earth they fly. 

Not thus the hard, the parsimonious world 
Had I first thought a foe to peace or love! 
Not then had those pure dreams of truth been 

torn. 
In ruthless care, asunder — vainly hurled 
From their high throne, in kingless state to rove: 
And thus my dying youth I fain would mourn! 

1899. 



SONNET 

WRITTEN ON REACHING THE AGE OF 
TWENTY-FIVE 

Ah ! Have I come to earth, from heaven above, 
To breathe its air for threescore years and ten, 
And mingle with this crowd of conquering men, 
Who turn toward an exchange of gold for love ? 
Where is that purer sphere, where once I strove, 
To linger only in its glade and fen; 
Nor knew that it possessed the darksome glen, 
That we have called this world in which we 

move ? 
My heart, another year has joined the rest 
That thou hast known for joy or sorrow, yet 
To be prolonged three-fold, e'er thou may'st go 
On high once more, and feed the thirsting 

breast 
On love immortal that shall not forget; 
That shall not die; that sorrow ne'er shall 

know. 

1900. 



POEMS ON ENGLISH SUBJECTS 



CORONATION- ANTHEM 

TO THEIR MAJESTIES KING EDWARD VII 
AND QUEEN ALEXANDRA 

I 

Lo! The sun shines o'er the land. 
Praise and peace go hand in hand. 
Take Columbia's joyous greeting, 
Given as Her heart is beating. 

Crown the King, 

Great Edward, King. 
Crown Him. To an Emperor sing. 

II 
Wave on high the sword of peace, 
Now proclaimed; let warfare cease, 
Through this Empire's wide dominion, 
Causing Love its wings to pinion. 

Crown Thee King, 

Great Britain's King. 
Crown Him. To an Emperor sing. 



54 CORONATION ANTHEM 

III 
Hail! His Royal consort rides, 
Fairer than a thousand brides, 
With Him through the world's procession, 
Still an Empire's proud possession. 

Crown the Queen. 

No lovelier Queen 
Alexandra's land hath seen. 

IV 

Then let loyal songs arise, 
Floating to the azured skies. 
Take this Coronation blessing. 
Sovereigns, unto God addressing: 

Crown the King, 

Great Edward, King. 
Crown Him. To an Emperor sing. 

1902. 



THE BRITONS 



A REPLY TO MR. RUDYARD KIPLING S POEM, 

"the islanders" ^ 



At a time when the poet's finger, 

Traces over the sands of time 
An indictment to rest and Hnger, 

As it were on his nation's crime; 
There is food for our recollection 

Of the things that might have been. 
There is chance that his deep reflection 

Might have killed what he counts as sin. 
In our hearts we all seek — and justly — 

The iron our country needs. 
Is there not in each bosom, firstly. 

The growth of those early seeds, 

* This poem, which was written during the afternoon on which The 
Islanders appeared in the London Timesy was first published in the Ati' 
glo-American in London on January i8, 1902, appearing subsequently 
in Paris and Berlin. The criticisms of Kipling on the English sports of 
cricket and rowing were the occasion of a considerable outcry on the part 
of the votaries of athletic training as a means of forming the national char- 
acter in England. 



56 THE BRITONS 

That were sown in life's childhood hour; 

That were grown in the later years; 
That were born for a nation's power, 

And brought forth at her prayers and tears ? 
Lies there not then, beneath all nations. 

The instinct of kith and kin, 
The thought that — whatever their stations — 

Forbids that their country sin ? 
Are there not, at their plows in the furrow. 

Full many an arm to bend ? 
Are there not, from the palace in sorrow. 

Lords or princes who gladly send 
Sons or brothers, a mother her firstborn, 

A wife her true husband again, 
A maiden her love — parched and thirstwom — 

Awaiting some tiding of pain ? 
Are there not through all lands of the Briton, 

Waiting yet their new strength to display. 
Countless hundreds to follow, like Triton, 

The mistress of seas and the spray ? 
Though a stranger, from far o'er the ocean, 

I tell you 't is well to applaud 
England's imperial potion; 

And though justly to blame yet to laud. 



THE BRITONS 57 

There are those who in critical measure 

Would cry 'gainst the things that are done; 
There are those, again, who would treasure 

The battles fought and won. 
And "the flanneled fools at the wicket," 

"The muddied oafs at the goals;" 
Better the life of the thicket, 

The freedom of their souls. 
Better the sports and the pastimes. 

That make men for the nation's field; 
Better mayhap than those last rhymes 

We wrote or the pen we wield. 
There are those whom we choose to govern, 

And those who are born to lead; 
There are men in the simple tavern 

Who know nothing but their need. 
And not one but shall seek protection 

From God who is over all; 
For in man there is no perfection. 

He arises but to fall. 
And the threescore years of his power, 

Or his threescore years of defeat, 
Lead alike from his gilded tower 

To the grave that is at his feet. 



58 THE BRITONS 

And when England stands at the judgment, 

Before the throne on high, 
Where pounds mean less than parchment. 

And where the lowly lie; 
Who shall say that her rulers trembled 

At promises of war ? 
Who shall say that their words dissembled 

The battles or the gore ? 
Who shall say that the Briton carried 

His misery to the Boer; 
Or chased from home, or tarried 

Behind the open door ? 
Who shall say that she fought unfeeling, 

Unhonored and alone 
Of nations, or unheeding 

The sorrow or the groan ? 
Who shall say her sacred mission 

Remained half unfulfilled; 
That conquest was her passion, 

Or that blood was idly spilled ? 
Let us pause in one grand emotion 

At the work that she has done; 
For the Britons o'er the ocean 

Have more, than proudly won. 



THE BRITONS 59 

They have carried truth and dayUght, 
From south to east or west; 

They have tempered many a twilight, 
And God their work has blest. 

1902. 



THE SPECTRE LORD 

A SONG OF AN ENGLISH HOUSE 

I 

The Lord sat in his castle hall. 

A hound was at his knee. 
The antlers rose above his head, 

For a noble lord was he. 

II 

Long since, the hidden guests had left 

The scenes of revelry; 
And never a sound came back again, 

Through vault or gallery. 

Ill 

The Lord sat on; his head was bent, 

His brow was overcast. 
For his son and heir had come of age 

And his secret knew at last. 



THE SPECTRE LORD 6i 

IV 

Long years had passed; his Lady dead; 

And the Lord a son had bred. 

His face was fair, this son and heir. 

His brow was high, 

And blue his eye; 
For he knew no curse was lurking by, 
Nor agony to dread. 



O Christ, have mercy on this son 
Of a house and gallant race, 

When the Spectre Lord returns again, 
And shows his ghastly face ! 

VI 

O Christ, have mercy on thy son, 
For he is young and fair; 

Nor time nor travail bend his frame. 
Nor turn his auburn hair! 

VII 

Then through the long, long gallery. 

Unto his father's hall. 
The youthful Lord, with joyous tread 

His father's name did call. 



62 THE SPECTRE LORD 

VIII 

Once, twice, then thrice he shouted loud; 

Some evil there must be! 
(For never a word came back again, 

Through vault of gallery.) 

IX 

At last unto his father's chair, 

He came, the son and heir. 

O God, the sight! His face is white! 

Upon his breast 

His head doth rest. 
Two stains of blood lie there! 

X 

The Lord, the father, he is dead, 
And his son before him stands. 

But what is this that lays its head 
Against the stiffened hands ? 

XI 

Ah! What was once a cherished hound. 
More faithful than a friend. 

Has licked his master's poisoned wound. 
And joined his fatal end. 



THE SPECTRE LORD 63 

XII 

Mercy have then upon this son, 
Who sees before him here 

So terrible a sight as this, 

And stands in speechless fear! 

XIII 

Mercy, O God, to those in youth 
Who know nor care nor sin; 

Who live in blessed innocence 
Of evil that has been. 

XIV 

The young lord knelt before the dead, 
And many a bitter tear he shed. 
His heart was rent, his sorrow spent. 

His father's love 

In vain he strove 
To call from whence it fled. 

XV 

Oh, but to know a father's love. 
And feel his kindly glance! 

Not I, not all the world would have 
More that in life enhance 



64 THE SPECTRE LORD 

XVI 

The joyous hours of youth, their Hght 
With manly thoughts to fill, 

Nor many a passing fitful flight. 
Its kindly warmth to kill. 

XVII 

O God, then on this youth look down! 

A Marquis now is he. 
Sadly his eye looks on the scene 

That once was revelry. 

XVIII 

Yet while he kneels in speechless awe 

Before his father's frame. 
An ice-cold hand lies on his head; 

And Something calls his name. 

XIX 

He turns: "Who dares to break my grief.? 
And what hast thou to say .? Be brief." 
In vain he tries to turn his eyes. 

O God, the vale! 

His face is pale. 
There stands the Spectre Lord! 



THE SPECTRE LORD 65 

XX 

"Come forth with me, thou paltry being. 

Come and behold thy fate." 
Thus spake the ghastly Phantom Lord, 

And op'd the castle gate. 

XXI 

And there he stood, his steel gray eye. 

His knotted beard undone. 
And long damp locks that fell around 

A face that mortals shun. 

XXII 

Yet from his person there escaped 
What every man must dread 

(An hundred years lay at his feet. 
An hundred on his head) : 

XXIII 

The smell of opened graves laid bare 

And suddenly revealed, 
The sense of something in the air. 

That lay for long concealed. 



66 THE SPECTRE LORD 

XXIV 

Ah! But a flash was in his eye. 
And from his hollow voice a cry 
There came like death; and with his breath, 

A flame of fire 

Bespoke his ire. 
Such was the Spectre Lord! 

XXV 

He led the noble youth beyond 

The towers of his home, 
And pointed with his withered hand 

To pinnacle and dome. 

XXVI 

"Then seest thou those ancient walls, 

Their guarded battlements, 
That held the prowess of thy name 

Through Time's entanglements. 

XXVII 

"Behold them crumble into dust. 

When I but wave my sword! 
For I that once their master was. 

Am now their Spectre Lord. 



THE SPECTRE LORD 67 

XXVIII 

"Yet see them flourish, once again; 

For I may rule them still. 
The crime that stole them from my hand 

Shall each possessor kill. 

XXIX 

"Then, lest they fall to rise no more, 
Come forth; come forth, to see the store 
Of sorrow's hell, within this dell. 

Give me thy soul. 

And hear this toll 
Of dirges and of war." 

XXX 

The Marquis to the dell repaired. 

No choice had he but follow 
(The Spectre held him in his grasp) 

Unto the haunted hollow. 

XXXI 

There to his half bewildered gaze, 

A sight unearthly shown 
Unto each eldest son appeared. 

When once to manhood grown. 



68 THE SPECTRE LORD 

XXXII 

A sight, unearthly in its scene, 

Uncanny to the living. 
Given by Death unto a soul 

Ungrateful for the giving. 

XXXIII 

And as they stood, the Spectre Lord 
Turned to the moonlit ground. 

And opened with his naked sword 
A deep and dismal wound. 

XXXIV 

Ah! That this wound might close again! 
And end the long and fatal chain 
Of tragedy, that turns the key, 

That pierces deep. 

And holds the keep ] 

Of many a castle main! 

XXXV 

Then from the ground came forth the dead. 

Their corpses half revealed. 
And to the clemency of God 

In agony appealed. 



THE SPECTRE LORD 69 

XXXVI 

Their cries now rent the cold night air, 
Now chilled the living soul; 

Now sank into the worm-worn earth, 
As back again they stole. 

XXXVII 

And as this purgatorial horde 

Increased, or disappeared. 
They gathered near their Spectral Lord, 

Whose coming they revered. 

XXXVIII 

And many a noble scion was there. 

Who ruled in days of yore 
The towers that rose above the air. 

And fell beneath his gore. 

XXXIX 

And many a noble chief was seen 
Upon the ground, where he had been 
Murdered before his castle door. 

Ah! What a sight! 

Again they fight. 
Again besmear the green! 



70 THE SPECTRE LORD 

XL 

Then, while the hungry vultures tore 
The corpse's flesh in twain, 

The young Lord saw a century's crime. 
The murderer live again. 

XLI 

A host of sin-stained spirits passed, 

In terrible array, 
Gathered from every passion's blast. 

And destined there to stay. 

XLII 

"Horrible, horrible," sighed the Lord. 

"Must I behold this scene .?" 
(The Spectre held him in his grasp) 

"And what my race has been!" 

XLIII 

And then there came a shocking sight, 
A murdered maiden fair, 

Slain in her desecrated youth. 
All strewn with golden hair. 



THE SPECTRE LORD 71 

XLIV 

Stretched on the floor in pools of blood, 

Basely defiled, so pure and good! 

His veins ran cold; the young Lord bold 

Saw in her form 

His own love warm. 
Repeated where he stood! 

XLV 

Then, maddened with inflamed desire 

To save his youthful love, 
He cast the Spectre's arm aside. 

And held his sword above; 

XLVI 

And called the maiden by her name. 

And wept upon her breast. 
And sought to claim her from the past — 

A prayer to God address't. 

XLVII 

Yet, as he dragged her from the place 
Where murdered she had lain 

A century in the tomb, revealed. 
The Spectre Lord was slain I 



72 THE SPECTRE LORD 

XLVIII 

And with one long unearthly cry, 

That rent the very ground, 
He raised on high his ghastly face, 

And showed a hideous wound; 

XLIX 

While from his breast poured forth a stream 
Of living flame, as in a dream. 
His blood was fire. He did expire. 

E'en as the Son 

His Love had won. 
Within the moon's faint beam. 



Thus by th' impetuous love of youth. 
The Marquis had atoned 

A crime that gave his noble race 
The curse that they bemoaned. 

LI 

And by his daring to uplift 

The maiden from her tomb. 

The Law that gave the Spectre life 
Engulfed him in its womb. 



THE SPECTRE LORD 73 

LII 

He sank, all flowing forth with fire, 
Sank through the earth below, 

Sank in his own revengeful ire. 
Where evil spirits go. 

LIII 

And with his parting curse a cry 

Of vanquished agony 
He gave, that touched the young Lord's breast, 

And sank in irony: 

LIV 

"Why hast thou, in a single hour, 
Untied the girdle of my power ? 
Ah! But thy race usurped my place! 

And took my name. 

And killed my fame. 
And stole my castle tower!" 

LV 

But still the young Lord clasped the maid. 
And watched the Spectre die. 

Held in his long embrace of love. 
She gave no sound nor cry. 



74 THE SPECTRE LORD 

LVI 

Then from the shades around the dell 

Rose angels on the air, 
Spirits that blessed their happy fate, 

And held them in their care. 

LVII 

Soft in the moonlight shone their wings, 
Lit up with heavenly fire. 

Aglow with something that on high 
Their union did inspire. 

LVIII 

And as they moved, the heavenly beings 
Wound in a peaceful train 

The heights that held the castle tower, 
And filled its hall again. 

LIX 

And thus true love overcame the power. 
That for a century its dower 
Had left in blood, upon the flood 

Of life that passed. 

And shadows cast. 
Let now its blessings shower! 

1902. 



ODES 

AFTER THE STYLE OF ANACREON 



These little odes, copied from the style employed by Anacreon, the Greek 
poet, are not in any sense translations or adaptations; but a series of short 
poems. They were written on twelve successive evenings, in the spring of 
1900, at The Wayside Inn. The original MSS., which were each completed 
within a certain prescribed time, have not been altered in any respect. 



{j^^ 



ODE I 



TO ZEUS 



Zeus, O God and King of all, 
Olympic songs shall mark thy fall. 
Ambrosial nourishment thy soul 
Shall have, and nectar from the bowl! 
When Eros strikes thee with his dart, 
Then, then th' Olympic host shall start 
In wondering terror at the wound. 
And gather near thee on the ground. 
"For mighty Zeus has from his state 
On high descended to the fate 
Of all mankind, that mortal be. 
And ne'er immortal joy shall see," 

They sing, and singing hail the God 
Begotten from thy very blood. 
Apollo springs to life from love. 
And joins the court of Gods above; 
Henceforth to know what love may be. 
For well-nigh God of Love were he! 

1900. 



ODE II 

TO APOLLO 

Apollo, comest thou to earth ? 
The heavens surely have no dearth 
Of beauty in their golden courts, 
Where Cupid in his youth disports ? 
Ah, comest thou to meet the muse. 
And in her virgin breast infuse 
New fire, that some day shall procure 
The Orphic strain in love secure? 
My heart, my heart, hast thou a chord, 
That shall v^ithstand the mighty sv^ord 
Of Mars, when, half at war with love. 
He sinks — as docile as the dove — 
To earth and worships at the shrine. 
That flows with magic blood or wine. 
Come, God of archery, thy son 
Like thee the soul of man hath won. 
Since music thou didst give to man, 
Bless'd be the folly of thy ban! 

1900. 



ODE III 



TO CUPID 



Cupid, thou the winged boy, 

Who with human hearts would toy. 

Give me, give me back my soul 

That thou didst send to Pluto's goal! 

Once in Venus' garden fair, 

Fanned by flowery, perfumed air. 

Once a lovely rose I found. 

Lying softly on the ground. 

I picked it up, and toward my lip 

I raised it high, its joy to sip. 

But as I raised the flower, a thorn 

Turned sudden joy to grief forlorn. 

Ah, Cupid, Cupid, save my heart. 

And extricate this fatal dart! 

My day is turned to sadder night 

Than e'er did maiden put to flight. 

Thy sweetest hours fade in air. 

And leave behind them naught but cold despair! 

1900. 



ODE IV 

TO CUPID 

Thy sweetest hours fade, I say, 
And leave behind no Hght of day. 
They fade, or (happy, happy fate!) 
They yet remain, and fade too late. 
With musk-rose sweet or eglantine. 
They mingle there, with bubbhng wine. 
They bring us greater joy than e'er 
I fain had thought existed here 
On earth, or e'en in heaven above. 
Where Gods do live in heav'nly love. 
O Cupid, then thy joys I bless! 
Thy winged form I 'd fain caress. 
And worship thee in every lay 
That muses bring, or magic fay. 
For surely thou to earth didst come 
To chase all evil from its home. 
And wind a blushing garland 'round 
Each maiden's form, from off the ground! 

1900. 



ODE V 

TO VENUS 

Take, Venus, homage pure from me, 

It comes from sweetest Arcady, 

And rises to Olympus' bower. 

Where love shall newer pleasure shower, 

Its essence, born of love divine. 

Is free from fumes of flowing wine. 

Its loveliness to man bestowed, 

Is sweeter than the branches bowed 

With honey-scented flowers of spring. 

That to this bosom gently cling. 

O inspiration from on high. 

Thou goddess, for thy love I sigh, 

And pant with rapture at the view, 

That I would here obtain anew. 

O Lily, sweeter than the air. 

So pure that thou dost seem to share 

The ether of that heavenly sphere. 

Around thy shrine we gather near. 

Within the vales or glades abound 



82 ODES 

Thy temples, echoing the sound 

Of love, to beauty wedded there. 

These sounds to nectar turn the air. 

Oh, thou art sweeter than the dream 

Of higher pleasure, that would seem 

To consummate the souFs desire. 

And fill man's heart with mystic fire! 

Thy son, born from diviner thought. 

To earth a bow and arrow brought. 

To pierce the softest spot that lies 

Beneath the roughest form, that tries 

To brave the crest of passion's wave. 

And yet his soul from passi'on save. 

But leading by the hand the boy. 

Whom mischiefs in his art employ. 

Thou freest him within the soul. 

And man is drowned within this bowl 

Of liquid love and beauty pure; 

That passion from his heart is sure. 

To there conceive, — and find 't is sweet — 

While pain he tramples 'neath his happy feet. 

1900. 



ODE VI 

TO BACCHUS 

Bacchus, prince of mirth and wine, 
Grapes around thine head entwine. 
Here feast and dance upon the green. 
That from those dreary mortals screen 
Thy joyous follies evermore, 
For thy true votaries in stone. 
Away with mournful, sombre ways! 
To revelry I M sing my lays. 
Prancing with satyrs on the heath. 
And viewing nymphs that sport beneath 
The groves, that run with crimson streams, 
Flowing from goblets' golden brims. 
Oh! Toss to nothing duty's call! 
'Tis pleasure that is all in all! 
No money-changing Plutus drear, 
Our revelries shall change to fear. 
O Bacchanalians! Hold thy God, 
Lest he do fall upon the sod, 
And end this merry scene too soon — 
The rights of Bacchus — and their boon! 
1900. 



ODE VII 

TO HERMES 

Son of Jove, thy winged feet 

The airs of heav'n soft would beat, 

And carry from thy father's hall 

The serpent-twined rod withal. 

Say, Hermes, where didst thou acquire 

Thy caduceus for the lyre; 

To hold aloft thy winged cap. 

And point to heaven, from the lap 

Of mother earth thy finger-tip ? 

Couldst scarce restrain the maiden's lip. 

That loving thee, would thee embrace 

(Her arms with thine to interlace) ? 

When yet a babe — four hours old — 
A tortoise-shell thine hand did hold. 
Beside the rushing water's brink. 
Where birds with Gods together drink. 
Nine holes around its edges made 
(To suit the Muses it is said); 
Nine cords of finest linen then 



ODES 85 

Were drawn. Complete, the lyre again 
From heav'n to earth did thereby come, 
And find with man a welcome home. 

But Hermes to Apollo gave 
Th' enchanted instrument, to wave 
Above his wings the serpent's rod. 
Henceforth to serve the fleeter God. 

In summer's soft and dulcet airs. 
Enthroned in flowery, grottoed lairs. 
The lyre touched by hands divine, 
Soft strains of music there enshrine; 
While Hermes, wrestling with those wiles 
Of all mankind, his time beguiles; 
Oft thieving, with a God's own skill. 
He manages the truth to kill. 

Yet beauty ever on his brow 
Would cause his votaries to bow. 
And oflFer potions to his shrine 
Of honeyed fruit and golden wine. 
Fly, God on high! Return again. 
And swiftly reach in air the souls of men! 

1900. 



ODE VIII 



TO MINERVA 



Thou art a Goddess cold and true. 
Wisdom — known but to the few — 
Cometh from thy fane alway, 
And causeth night to turn to day. 
Pallas was thy name in Greece, 
While Jason sought the golden fleece. 
Athene likewise art thou called; 
But now Minerva hath forestalled 
Those other names, that men would give 
To thee while Wisdom yet shall live. 

Cold and loveless, thou art yet 
On high, like some bright jewel set, 
To light the world, to lead mankind 
Unto the goal that he would find. 
Sprung from the very head of Zeus, 
No mind hast thou to bear abuse; 
But seest all things as they are, 
And happiness, e'en from afar. 

The owl upon thy temple placed 
All folly from thy shrine hath chased. 



ODES 87 

And brought those peaceful, passive ways 
That follow youth's distracting days. 
Wild folly's vain and ceaseless strife 
Shall find no place within thy life. 
Impet'ous longing, mad desire 
Must other deities inspire. 
Anger hath no place with thee: 
Peaceful love shall ever be 
Companion to thy learned ways, 
And him, that to thy mercy prays. 

Mark then, Minerva, well thy sons. 
Whom Wisdom seeks and Folly shuns, 
Whom honest longing for the truth 
Shall bring to higher courts, forsooth! 
No goblets, filled with foaming wine. 
Pour they upon thy sacred shrine. 
No banquets, near thy temples held. 
Disturb the visions there beheld. 
No mimic laughter of the fool. 
No turning of another's tool. 
No false attainment bear thy swains. 
No scoflUng jest the heart entrains! 
But thus pursued, their end they reach. 
Joyous that they their fellow men may teach 

1900. 



ODE IX 

TO CERES 

Verdant field, or pasture green, 
Ever to thy care has been 
Like some temple to the God, 
Who holds on high the twined rod 
And seeks Ambrosia for his food. 
I place a seed within the earth, 
In springtime; thou dost give it birth, 
To bear in air some golden flower. 
And add to life its tiny power. 
The soiFs abundance thou dost guide. 
To be the Autumn's mellow bride. 
And fill with plenty all our days. 
Behold! I sing my joyful lays. 
Propitious Goddess, that the crows 
May scatter from these youthful rows 
Of corn and growing crops, that yield 
Their welcome harvest from the field. 
'T is thou dost crown the year with wealth. 



ODES 89 

And give to Autumn half his health. 
Then hold my tired limbs, and bear 
This cup of life that I would share ! 

1900. 



ODE X 

TO PAN 

I STRODE one day to where the flocks 
Of snow-white sheep, among the rocks 
And flow'ry pastures wander. 
Yet while there I fain did ponder, 
'Mid a host of shepherds rude. 
Playing upon pipes of wood. 
Pan I spied, the mighty Pan. 

Toward the joyous crowd I ran, 
Breathing in the lighter air 
Of rural life and Nature fair! 
There in lovely Arcady, 
Sorrows from the heart would fly. 
Dancing o'er the purple turf. 
Of love at least we have enough; 
Of joy we drink the sweetest draught 
That ever God or Goddess quaff' d. 

Thus would I sweet Pan have been. 
Had I not some flower seen. 
That seemed so beautiful to have. 



ODES ( 

I sought it on this earth; but love, 
Now that on earth my soul is placed, 
Seems from its life to have been chased. 
Ah! Take me then again to thee, 
Thou God of joyous Arcady! 
There, envious passion ne'er shall dwell, 
Nor love the lover's sorrow tell; 
Nor e'en a nymph that bathes therein 
Know half the wickedness of sin. 
Then in the air of love divine 
(Oh, better far than cooling wine!) 
My soul would dwell in happy peace. 
The gladness of its own release! 
Far better, far than worldly joys, 
Are those that Nature thus employs. 
Then rise, my being, from the earth. 
Leave there its miserable hearth. 
Arcadian simplicity; 
Enough, it is enough for me! 

1900. 



ODE XI 

TO MIRTH 

Strains of laughter greet the ear. 
What is there indeed to fear 
Of sadness, or of lone despair, 
While Mirth and Gladness fill the air ? 
Dancing to a pleasing grove, 
Lovely maidens sing of love. 
Pleasantries and gay delight 
Fill the flov^ery night. 

Yonder faun his frolic plays, 
While I sing these happy lays, 
Happy, happy, happy lays! 
I 'd sing them all my days. 
When in a darkened mood desponding. 
We would seek the shade of death. 
Find we ever mirth responding 
To the living breath. 
Then pray cast away thy sighs. 
O'er the wave of youth to rise. 
O'er the summit of the skies 
I 'd find thee, welcome Mirth ! 
1900. 



ODE XII 

TO LOVE 

In some mossy glen reclining, 
Soft with dewy columbine, 
I would woo thee, Love, divining 
Whether thou wouldst there be mine. 

See the youth, in glowing ardor. 
Fondle thus the maiden's hand. 
Pressing near this weeping arbor. 
Rapture, waiting thus, would stand. 

Happy transport of the soul; 
Happier than the flowing bowl! 
Love within an instant fleeting. 
Pours its blessing from the heart; 
Thus its pleasant ^^ beating, heating,*' 
Never shall from life depart. 

Oh! come take these treasures all. 
Gladly from mine hand they fall! 
Give me in return thine eyes. 
Fairer far than sunny skies. 
And in sweetest frenzy sip 
This honeyed nectar from thy lip. 

1900. 



QUATRAINS 






FIRST SERIES 



The goldenrod has bloomed, has died and gone. 
Its second bloom has seen the summer's morn. 
"Thy stem is bent; but thou shalt rise again. 
Thy soul to Heav'n incarnate shall be born." 

II 

A light I see that shineth o'er the cloud. 
(The mountain-top is veiled within its shroud.) 
Show thus thy soul, my Friend, or pass away. 
And leave this light. For I would cry aloud. 

Ill 

One breath of passion o'er the orchard flung, 
Would turn this gentle song my heart hath sung. 
To something deeper than the lake below. 
And drown those tears, that from the heart are 
wrung. 



98 QUATRAINS 

IV 

And I have turned to lighted hall, and seen 
But darkness, where a fairer light had been 
If love had step't into the candle's flame, 
And turned its fire into a nobler sheen. 



My youth and I have played at fast and loose. 
I killed the duckling and the fatted goose, 
To feast upon them with delighted eyes; 
But ere the feast the meat had lost its juice. 

VI 

A noisy song, by wine or laughter fed: 
An idle thought of some unloving bed: 
Why come these flames upon the field of youth. 
Their tainted light o'er truer Friendship shed ? 

VII 

For what have wine or vapors, to allure; 
Or what would Pleasure to its own assure ^ 
Oh, were not Heav'n concealed within the Cup, 
Thy soul this yoke of earth could not endure. 



QUATRAINS 99 

VIII 

The falling fruit of senses in their prime, 
An evil omen o'er my bowl of wine : 
Give me my youth, O Dream, or pass away, 
Leaving the Night to live but to the Day. 



IX 

Come linger in the bath, and thou shalt see 
My friends and I no longer of the Earth. 
But by the water and the air to be. 
Though not of Heav'n all that a Friend were 
worth. 

X 

My fellows, ye who live to fill your purse, 
Gaze here upon this chain of gold, and curse 
The hour ye squandered, in your greed for more 
Than life could bring — oh. Better then were 
Worse ! 

XI 

Leave then thine arid love of self to die. 
Where'er the drought shall cast upon the soil 



100 QUATRAINS 

Its hardened aspect: I had rather He 
O'er beds of truer pleasure, free from toil! 

XII 

'T were better, then, to give myself to life. 
To lose my treasures, and to find my soul, 
Than that this Flesh should dwell — an idle 

strife — 
In seeking for deep waters near the shoal; 

XIII 

And by the giving of myself to find 
A door close there, upon my life behind. 
And pass at last beyond the prison gate. 
Where chains of grief my heart no longer bind. 



XIV 



When I first knew Thee, Thou wert old and gray. 
Though Thou wert young, and I have heard 

Thee say: 
They laughed upon Thee, Magic One, and why ? 
For now they bow before Thee on the way. 



QUATRAINS loi 

XV 

A gentle hand upon my shoulder brought 
A tear into the heart — a sudden thought 
That Life was worth the living, worth the end, 
Where I believed no gentleness was wrought. 

XVI 

For why these faintings of the seeking heart; 
Or why should I but give to Thee the part ? 
If not the whole, then nought of Thee for me. 
Thine end shall be no better than the start! 

XVII 

These lips are Thine, to feed the Hmpid eye. 
These eyes are mine, the anguish of my soul 
To tell in silence: though the heart shall sigh; 
That very sigh may lead me to my goal. 



XVIII 

To change my coat, to wear a pleasant smile, 
And in the haunts of Fashion to beguile 
A Day that turneth Dusk into the night. 
Were Night indeed without one spirit's wile. 



102 QUATRAINS 

XIX 

Some faces lighted round this magic lamp, 
With gentler fire, bear the truer stamp 
That wakes the flow of wine to something more, 
And warms the spirit if the night be damp. 

XX 

Then love me well, my neighbor from the hill. 
So that I love thee, heart and soul, until 
The leaf of autumn falls, to die away; 
Then love thine house, and love thy servant still. 

XXI 

A passing face, an idle glance or two, 

A chance regret beside the fallen yew, 

A thought of something that has never been : 

Ah, leave the many for the chosen few! 



XXII 

A pleasing dream: they say it is not well, 

E'en for Reality, to Fancy sell. 

For as I dream my days in airy thought. 

My friend, near by, hears not this curfew bell. 



QUATRAINS 103 

XXIII 

In moral isolation from mankind, 
A hermit Soul nor Body, there, would find 
To be the Truth of life; nor there could live 
In holy, healthy happiness of mind. 

XXIV 

Yet Body to the Soul v^ould often say: 
"Thine eye from off my form may turn av^ay; 
Yet leave to me the beauty of the w^hole. 
That maketh Love the Laws of Life obey. '' 

XXV 

Some things, for half our lifetime laid away. 
When we have seen another child at play. 
Do often fall, before the Soul revealed. 
And turn its darkness into sudden day. 



XXVI 

I sat and spake once, in the honeyed air 
Of blushing roses, with some lady fair. 
Who asked if God began, or if the end 
Of Life, or of the Universe were there. 



104 QUATRAINS 

XXVII 

Then turned I to the trees upon the lawn, 
And pointed to the pregnant ears of corn : 
" For if these grew, or as they grow to-day, 
So to thy soul shall God reveal its morn." 

XXVIII 

Oh, be thou then thyself, and to thy Soul, 

See that thou art as seeker to his goal; 

Nor turn away the tiny leaves of life; 

For from these leaves great secrets shall unroll. 

XXIX 

Am I alone, my soul and I in one. 
Or are these signs of Heaven the setting sun. 
With beams of life, that fade, to fall in air. 
Leaving the thirsted heart, we know not where ? 



XXX 

A shaded tree, a locust in the field, 
A rosy bed, the air that flowers yield, 
A quiet hour with the soul, and then — 
Ah ! Then the world — give me my sword and 
shield! 



I 



QUATRAINS 105 

XXXI 

A waving flower by the willow tree, 
A garden, planted on some pleasant lea: 
Ah ! what are these if I am not, with Thee, 
One half on Earth, one half in Heav'n to be ? 

XXXII 

A sultry day, that with its heated breath, 
Would fan the storm to gather, lightly saith: 
"I kill the aster, as the flower shall bloom." 
Oh, stay thine anger in the face of Death! 

XXXIII 

For what is Life, if I but chance to be; 
If Thou art not to me, and I to Thee, 
As rain from Heaven upon the Earth, and each 
The flowering essence of our spirits see ? 

1898. 



SECOND SERIES 

I 
Life, thou 'rt a problem solved but by a few. 
Success to me were not success to you, 
Nor that which makes it oft would seem to 

be 
More than the hours we serve. Oh, serve them 

too! 

II 
Ten years, ah, ten hard years of nothing won, 
Of toil unseen, and tenanted by none 
Of those who feed success with Life's own flood : 
These are the price, ere the long race be run. 

Ill 
Yet who shall tell me by what path to find 
The palace gate, the forest, as I wind. 
Uncertain here, unknowing often where 
The serpent's fang my heart in prison would 
bind. 



QUATRAINS 107 

IV 

And yet Success, when conquered is the game, 

Were little more or little less than tame, 

If Heaven's intuitions of the heart 

We follow not. Ah me! An empty fame! 



Give me the simplest cot beside the wall, 
The smallest jug of ale among you all. 
I 'd choose thee willingly, O humbler Peace, 
Than sacrifice my soul's far greater call! 

VI 

They led me to their palace strong and high, 
And told me from its summit I might fly. 
"But to us give thy soul," they darkly cried. 
I fled; nor could I tell them truly why. 

VII 

Strange, that our friends would bury us beneath 
Their ov^oi distorted mound upon the heath. 
"Thou sink'st to dust," they say, "without our 

aid." 
And yet they know not of us one drawn breath. 



io8 QUATRAINS 

VIII 

Perchance, the half closed eye shall see for me. 
A single thought within my heart may be 
The jewel of the crown so dearly sought. 
Ah ! Then come triumph and delight — and 
Thee. 



IX 

Without provision for the faults of Good, 
That men present alway for daily food. 
Without our own disclaimer: "yea," or "nay," 
Divine the Truth of life we never should. 

X 

Then blow these bubbles through the autumn 

sun, 
Seeing their colors fading, one by one; 
They rise, to fall, and vanish through the air. 
Leaving behind them nothing lost or won; 

XI 

And hear the purple to the azure say: 
"We come from nought, to nought return, and 
lay 



QUATRAINS 109 

Our colors o'er the mists around the sphere, 
To live to-morrow as we live to-day." 

XII 

But if these words begin and end in nought; 
If man may give to man but treasures bought; 
How, through the maze and turmoil, shall he 

live, 
Save if the palace of his Soul be sought ? 



XIII 

And if I seek this palace in myself, 
Am I an higher Being or an elf: 
A spirit, half divine and half debased: 
A Something to its God, or to itself? 

XIV 

Come wake then from the dark, that I may see 

If more than part of each is the Decree 

That comes from Heav'n, and I on Earth am 

made 
One half my Soul, one half myself to be. 



no QUATRAINS 

XV 

My Soul : the greatness of my heart's desire, 
My prayer, that through the ages shall transpire; 
Myself: the poison of the earth below. 
That kills its own extinguishable fire. 

XVI 

Since then of light and darkness we be made, 
Oh, seek the sunlight, to eschew the shade. 
And when the Beauties of thy Soul are freed, 
Thy Master's calling thou shalt have obeyed. 



XVII 

They say the poppy conjures sleep divine. 
I would that I then dared this heart of mine 
To waft asleep, with odors breathing death. 
And lose my pain in something more than wine. 

XVIII 

But what, when I have ceased to breathe, shall be 
The outcome of this problem here for me — 
What .? — should I find beyond the same dark 

way. 
Leading to paths or chasms of the sea .? 



QUATRAINS iii 

XIX 

What say' St thou then ? Abide and rest awhile. 
With lightness of thine heart the time beguile, 
And soft at evening, when these shadows fade, 
A pleasure comes, no longer to revile. 

XX 

But yet, — ah, yet, — the Night shall come 

apace. 
The passing breath shall end thy solemn race: 
No Goal beyond for Thee who sought no love; 
No Hell for Thee whose heart true love did 

grace ! 

1899-1900. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 

WRITTEN IN 1897-1898 



EPITHALAMIUM 

A WEDDING CHIME 

I 

Ding, dong! A bridal morn shines forth. 

Ding, dong! 
For all there is of living worth, 

My song 
Sings to the winds of Heaven a tune, 
From sun and sky, to stars and moon. 

II 
Belong to any race of man. 

Be strong. 
Be of a weak and shortened span, 

Or long; 
There cometh to each life an hour. 
To fill it with a nobler power. 

Ill 
Ding, dong! Upon the tower high. 
Along 



ii6 EPITHALAMIUM 

With shades and where the shadows He, 

My song 
Rings out from many an iron tongue, 
That through deep centuries have rung. 

IV 

Ding, dong! Ding, dong! They grow apace. 

A throng 
Below hath many a noble face; 

For long 
The high possessor of a name, 
That nobleness hath brought to fame. 

V 

Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Why should we wait 

So long .? 
An altar stands beyond the gate. 

'T is strong 
With flowers and Heaven-besprinkled dew, 
That bloom but for a chosen few. 

VI 

Ding, dong! My heart is beating fast: 
A song 



EPITHALAMIUM 117 

Sounds through the aisle, an organ blast, 

Ding, dong, 
Is echoed in a soul that prays 
For happiness, in sacred ways. 

VII 

Ding, dong! Away with weeping now! 

Belong 
No sorrows to the bridal vow. 

A wrong 
Is righted in a moment's time. 
Fanned by one breath of air sublime. 

VIII 

Ding, dong! Oh, mighty bell, peal on. 

Our song. 
Drowned in thy voice, is pale and wan; 

Ding, dong; 
Rolling the waves of sound, to toy 
With oceans of unbounded joy. 

IX 

Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Lo, Hymen comes! 
For long. 



ii8 EPITHALAMIUM 

A winged boy — a garland runs — 

Ding, dong — 
Around the graver Cupid's wand. 
A bridal torch burns in his hand. 

X 

Ding, dong! Apollo's son flies high, 

And long. 
He bears a ring beyond the sky. 

With song. 
Descend sweet blessings on the bride. 
All happiness our friends betide! 

XI 

Ding, dong! Pour forth the noble crowd; 

The throng. 
Elated wishes rise aloud. 

And long. 
Lingering, as with a happy heart, 
Thus we behold the bride depart. 

XII 

Ding, dong! My life hath died away. 
Ding, dong — 



EPITHALAMIUM 



119 



The distant bell sinks with the day. 

Ding, dong — 
Suns still unseen have yet to rise, 
Burning these mists from off the heavy eyes. 



TO A FOUNTAIN^ 



Soft drops of rain, that fall 
Half musically, some 
Within a veil-like wall. 
That through the mists become 
Each some pearl gem whose lights have strayed 
from home: 

II 
Their song falls through the day, 
Born laughingly beneath 
The wave, whose graceful way 
Turns from its native heath; 
In vain desire to find some parting wreath. 

Ill 

Oh, speak thy whispering joy, 
Thou plaything of the air, 

^ The fountain is one of the smaller ones, situated at one of the principal 
entrances of the Public Garden of Boston, in the centre of which is the 
statue of a goddess in white marble. In summer the spray of the fountain 
falls over the statue, amid a miniature pond filled with water plants and 
azure colored water lilies. 



TO A FOUNTAIN 121 

To me! What pains alloy! 

What wounds would ye repair ? 

Scarce may we tell within this watery lair. 

IV 

What sayest thou so low ? 

Thy pattering footsteps fall, 

Each in their liquid flow, 

To form some fairied hall, 

Studded with diamonds of dew withal. 

V 
Thou hast no sin nor woe. 
No duties to perform. 
Those cares that mortals know 
Fall from thee without harm. 
Thou dost pour forth thine heart upon the 
storm. 

yi 
Lo! Thou canst say of Love: 
"I know not of thy pain. 
Thy lowering shades above 
O'ershadow not my plain. 
I do but drop within this marble fane." 



122 TO A FOUNTAIN 

VII 

Life, still thou fallest o'er, 

In those unfeeling grains 

Of palest thought, to soar 

Through our ozone. The strains 

Of thy cold music from the heart refrains. 

VIII 

Oh, thou tiny fountain, 

Flowing through the air; 

Like some silvery mountain; 

Like some mermaid's hair, 

Whose tresses fall in joy and without care; 

IX 

Like some feathery being. 

Bursting to the sun; 

Like some spirit fleeing. 

As the day is done; 

Thy race is o'er. Thy life has just begun! 

X 

Thou couldst gayly teach us, 
How our days to soend 



TO A FOUNTAIN 123 

In new heavens above us. 
Our unconscious end, 

Of this short space comes where the soul would 
wend. 

XI 

Strange, these drops of sadness. 

Scattering through the light, 

Turn our hearts to gladness, 

Wakening at the sight 

Of so much beauty born within the night! 



THE FAUN^ 

I 
Out into a garden fair ^ 

Strode a faun; 
'Mid the flower-perfumed air, 

In the morn. 

II 
Cold and empty had it been, 

Till the spring. 
Nothing grew; no bird was seen 

There to sing. 

Ill 
Life had found its winter too 
For the faun. 

^ The metre of the poem is that used in some of the forms of the Latin 
Ode, less common in English poetry, where the lines are so short as 
often to be considered lacking in strength of feeling or dignity. 

^ The Ode has been placed here, though it was in reality written in 1894, 
in London, the last two stanzas, however, having been added in England 
in 1901. 



THE FAUN 125 

Cupid ever from him flew. 
He was worn. 



IV 

Weary of an empty race 

For the child 
Who all men of every race 

Hath beguiled; 



Thus had come into the plact 

Cupid loves. 
There upon the lawn, a race 

With the doves, 

VI 

Runs a little winged God, 

With his bow, 
Whence into the bending sod. 

Arrows go. 

VII 

There remaining, soon they grow 
Everywhere, 



126 THE FAUN 

While their blossoms, as they blow, 
Scent the air. 

VIII 

Such a fairy sight as this 

Saw the faun. 
Cupid shot at him a kiss. 

Love was born! 

IX 

Sunshine suddenly was spread, 

There around. 
Flowers grew in every bed, 

O'er the ground. 

X 

Thus in life a garden too. 

As the faun. 
Is the place where, if we woo, 

Love is born. 

XI 

Maiden, then thine heart retain, 
Fair and free; 



THE FAUN 127 

Cupid soon its surface stain; 
Though it be; 

XII 

Yet shall many a joy be thine, 

When 't is gone, 
Lost within that holy shrine 

Of the faun! 



THE CLOUD 



O THOU soft breath of Heaven that passeth by, 
From the unknown, to where we may not see, 
Born by the wind of the eternal sky. 
From what celestial anger dost thou flee ? 

II 

In fleecy softness, gathered through the air, 
Thou art blown o'er the pale-tinted blue, 
Shadows to send, beneath the ocean's lair. 
And form new fancies from the evening dew. 

Ill 
Through the deep sound of Nature's voice thou art 
Silent in passage, swift in airy flight, 
But half unseen, yet half inclined to part 
From the soft sunshine or aerial light. 

IV 

Tell those who linger lovingly below, 

Who gaze with wonder o'er thy silvery shade. 



THE CLOUD 129 

Where are concealed thy secrets in the flow 
Of wind and weather, ere thy beauties fade ? 



Showers of rain fall from thy weeping eyes, 
Oft moistening the parched and mournful 

throng; 
Tell us thy sorrows, for with tears and sighs 
We weep with thee, half knowing of thy wrong. 

* VI 

Hast thou some grief, found in the gathering 

storm. 
Some tempest hurled in anger to the earth ? 
Where are thy missiles, where thy lowering arm ? 
The cloud has joined the air that it is worth ! 



SNOW-FLAKES 



Snow-flakes fall through leaden air, 
Like tresses of celestial hair. 
Pale frost enshrouded grains that blow: 
Oh, whence to come ? Oh, where to go ? 

II 
Tears drop from the weeping eyes, 
Accompanying fears or sighs : 
Cold snow-flakes, are you tears of Heaven, 
Or but the storm's departing leaven ? 

Ill 

Snow-flakes spin their peaceful robe 
Around life's ever turning globe. 
For peace comes oft with death alone. 
Then peace, come ere these snows have flown! 



ON BOARD THE VENTURE 

I 
At rest within the harbor's peace, 
Her sides caressed by gentle waves, 
The Venture lies; her sailors cease 
From toil: above, the awning saves 
The eye from many a piercing ray 
Of sun and sky, that burn the face. 
And tell of a voluptuous day, 
That in its beauty grows apace. 



II 

Some bird beyond the neighboring shore 
Sings out a song, that breathes an air 
Of half we feel of poet's lore. 
Of half we know, within its lair. 
And many a vision rises high. 
Beyond our view of happy hours. 
As in a languid mood we lie. 
Dreaming of higher deeds and powers. 



132 ON BOARD THE VENTURE 

III 
The trembling pennant far above 
Reflects the wind's uncertain air, 
And bears on high a sailor's love 
Of all he holds in life most fair! 
The splash of passing v^aters' flov^ 
Accompanies some seaman's boat, 
As gliding through the ocean lov^. 
Within the harbor she w^ould float. 

IV 

Thus o'er the Venture's shady deck, 
We linger at the sunset hour. 
And witness from the distant wreck. 
Approaching us, a seaworn rower; 
"Oh, shelter here, thou tired mate! 
Returned from old to youthful bark. 
O'er life's long sea, 't is oft our fate 
To find new light from what was dark." 



RETURN OF THE CONSTITUTION^ 



Welcome, O Warrior of the stormy seas, 

To thine adoring home. 
Once more shalt thou recHne at ease. 

Beneath this heavenly dome. 
Fast flow our tears of joy; again 

They hail thine honored form, 
Tattered and with a century's stain, 

Borne by the nation's storm! 

II 

Peace thou hast brought us; peace at Honor's 
hand. 

Won with thy laurel crown. 
Well didst thou bear thy noble band 

Of heroes to renown! 

^ These stanzas were written on the occasion of the famous battleship's 
return to Boston, on March 4, 1897. An enthusiastic public meeting was 
held in the Old South Church on that date, addressed by the Governor 
of Massachusetts and other distinguished persons. The poem was written 
on returning from the meeting. 



134 RETURN OF CONSTITUTION 

Then may we turn to greet one leaf, 

Remaining yet behind, 
And with our eheers, increase behef 

In country and in kind. 

Ill 
Turn to thy glorious rest, proud ship of war, 

That we may hold thy name 
All through our land, beyond the roar 

Of battle or of fame. 
Cleave in our hearts the wondrous thought, 

Achievement to attain. 
Thus, for our country were we wrought: 

To bear and honor pain! 



STANZAS 

WRITTEN IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY 



O vast, sepulchral, shaded hall! 
Beneath dark shadows of thy wall 
We kneel, and in an air divine, 
Lay our faint tribute at thy shrine. 



II 

A space for highest honor made, 
By man for man; each stone is laid. 
To God's eternal praise of truth. 
And our acknowledgment of worth. 



Ill 

Rise nobler towers, higher domes 
Than these, above historic tombs, 
For saints, for heroes, and for kings, 
Where grandeur with tradition rings? 



136 STANZAS 

IV 

Have men of other lands an aisle, 
That centuries shall not defile, 
Bestrewn with laurel leaves of fame. 
Each bearing their immortal name ? 



Have we a greater gift to God, 
Than o'er some graves to lift the sod. 
And build in grief a temple fair. 
Enshrining life's achievement there ? 



VI 

Oh, melancholy air of death, 
That Cometh with each passing breath. 
That lingereth near the shaded tomb. 
Depart from this exalted gloom! 

VII 

Thy poisoned arrow's shaft is gone. 
When Honor thou hast hither borne. 
To lie in this sublime repose, 
With bearers of the English rose. 



STANZAS 137 

VIII 

O Genius, thou art well repaid, 
With Honor to be nobly laid : 
Here thou hast built a vaster dome, 
And immortality its home! 



. A DIRGE 

WRITTEN TO THE BELL OF A CHURCH NEAR 
NEWPORT, RHODE ISLAND, WHERE BISHOP 
BERKELEY PREACHED 

O BELL, peal on, o'er thine unbroken waves 
Of deepening sound, that gently bathe my face; 
And ring unto eternity the souls — 
The souls of the departed dead that sleep. 
The trees resound with echoes of their joy. 
With songs of long-passed vanity and power. 
With tales of woe, with pleasures of their day; 
While softer waves wash our repining hearts. 
And we invoke pale mysteries from thy dirge. 
Oh, tell me of those strange, departed beings 
And where they pass, beyond these winds of night 
Toward higher goals of their awakening dawn. 
The shades fall o'er the pale bewildered eye. 
The tones of thy departing sound grow dim. 
They fall upon the ear, as on they pass. 
Sadly they fade and sadly sing their wail: 



A DIRGE 139 

"Long have we rung these dirges through the 

years, 
That pass, with wickedness or vain desire. 
Pale myrmidons, beyond our reach, cry forth. 
A day breaks o'er the scene, as Hfe would close, 
And grand eternity shines through the soul." 

Stay! thou art but a thing worn old and gray; 
Yet from thee, man may gather many a tune. 
Then ring through years unborn; thy voice may 

fill 
Cold hearts with fervor, softening eyes with tears. 
Ring then through many a watch; thy song 

shall bring 
New life to sadness in the hour of death ! 



TO FAME 



Oh, thou art but an idle dream! 

I wake: I tremble. 
'T was but a fairy sunbeam, 

To dissemble 
The soft light of fancy; 
To wave a laurel crown — a necromancy ! 

II 

But stay: there may be more to Fame. 

We wait; we wander. 
With each new step, the self -same 

Way we render 
A new path to power, 
And wake at last upon ambition's tower! 



I 



TO SPRING 



Hail to thee, Spring! Prince of the season's 

sway. 
Cast off are our dark winter shades! 
Leave all dull sadness and cold winds away. 
Come! Let us bathe in sunny glades! 

II 

Hail to the Sun! Burst out of nature's clouds; 
Pouring forth light and radiance and love. 
Unknowing delights have torn off the shrouds. 
Hail! Spring again falls from above! 



TO THE SPIRIT^ 



Great Spirit, hear me as I rove 
Through field or forest, wood or grove. 
Through wind encircled moods of woe; 
Or flee from an approaching foe. 
Great Spirit, hear me as I rove; 
To conquer wickedness with love! 

II 
Behold! There comes a wakening voice, 
Lipped in its half immortal choice, 
That sings from the surrounding shade. 
And reaches oft the sunny glade. 
Behold! The songs upon the wind 
Ring with the breath of life behind ! 

Ill 
Great Spirit, thy divine refrain 
Would turn these mockeries of pain 

^ First published in Boston, June, 1899. 



TO THE SPIRIT 143 

From dull despair to notes of joy, 
To life and find the winged boy. 
Great Spirit, rest, and long remain 
Love, ruling earth's enshrouded fane. 



TO MUSIC 



O Music ! rain sweet showers of love, 

To quench our thirsty heart. 

Turn, toward the skies of heaven above. 

Pleasures that never part. 

Fall, with thy love awakening joy, 

In strains that nothing shall alloy! 

II 
O Music! guard my panting soul. 
And stay vain passion's power. 
Lead me to the eternal goal. 
Clothe inspiration's hour, 
Fanning our flights upon the way, 
With liquid notes that Gods do play! 



POEMS 

WRITTEN TO PERSONS AND PLACES 



<D^^ 



HOCKWOLD HALL^ 

TO THEIR HIGHNESSES PRINCE AND 
PRINCESS 

Let my thoughts return to Hockwold, 
Hockwold ever fair and smiling, 
With its fields and paths beguiling 
Many a flower in their fold. 
Where are then such happy hours 
Spent near London's gloomy towers, 
Or such charm of country bowers. 
Where the city's heart grows cold ? 

Noble Prince, thine house extending 
Every hospitable sign, 
Draws the pen to trace — pretending 
To no grandeur in its line — 
Yet some vain attempt to mingle 
With poetic art my strain; 
And from many a talent, single 
Those that bear thy royal train! 
Of the sports and country pleasures, 

^ Written after a visit at Hockwold Hall. 



148 HOCKWOLD HALL 

Where the hand and eye excel; 
Of those priceless Indian treasures 
On thy walls this pen would tell. 
Of fair Hockwold's smiling acres, 
Where the pheasant's golden wing 
Rises from the autumn keepers, 
Yet to fall, these Hnes would sing. 
Of a river winding slowly,^ 
On to Ely's ancient tower: 
Princess fair, the bark is lowly. 
And we guide with waning power. 
Yet the evening falls around us; 
Still no landing near at hand : 
"On to Ely then! Confound us, 
If the Princess shall not land!" 
Thus two courtiers of the hour 
Guide the tiny bark, beyond 
Many a fading bank, — each rower 
Wishing river were a pond — 
Till at last upon its borders 
Ely's welcome lights appear. 
Land, O Princess! Give thine orders! 
"Tie the shallop to the pier." 

^ The latter portion of the poem refers to a river expedition taken with 
the Princess and another guest, when the party was forced to row a long 
distance, finally reaching Ely at evening. 



HOCKWOLD HALL 149 

While we hastened through the twihght, 

Norfolk's village to regain, 

I was tempted, ere the daylight. 

To repeat this soft refrain: 

Let our steps return to Hockwold, 
Hockwold ever fair and smiling, 
With its fields and paths beguiling 
Now three travellers in their fold. 
Where are found such treasured hours. 
E'en near Ely's holy towers. 
Or such charm of country bowers. 
On an evening damp and cold ? 

Honored Princess, should we ever 
In some mirror-lined hall 
Meet again, I fain would sever 
From the past — and there recall — 
Something that in years shall never 
Fail to speak of Hockwold Hall! 
Then in all thy radiant splendor. 
And an emerald-studded crown, 
Norfolk's stream perchance remember, 
And some cause for its renown! 
1901. 



HOLLAND HOUSE ^ 

TO THE COUNTESS OF ILCHESTER 

Historic home, with many a treasured wall, 
Where Art the hand of greatness would recall; 
Hast thou some pictures, to the mind attuned 
In nobler colors than have oft communed 
With souls departed from this world's attire ? 
May I for one short moment then admire 
Thy matchless beauty and thy fair retreat; 
Where many a classic heart did often beat 
With fire, that turned his day to ruddy hue; 
Where many a poet trode, now passed away; 
Where many a minstrel sang his sweetest lay; 
And where full many a genius gladly found 
Congenial thoughts on hospitable ground ? 
Hie me in silence unto Rogers' bower. 
And from yon fair EHzabethan tower, 
The sound of silver trumpets blown in air. 
Receive with joy, and many a passion share! 

^ Holland House is the property of the Earl of Ilchester. 



HOLLAND HOUSE 151 

Here let me linger with the crowned Gods; 
To join the humbler pilgrim, as he plods 
The steep and thorny path that leads to fame, 
And know at last the glory of a name! 

Where better than in such a bower, to form 
Some great ideal, Athene's temple storm; 
And mark one onward step to greater power. 
That holds the world's advancement as its 
dower ? 

Here rise these halls, where man has well 
adorned 
The domes that echo what was never scorned; 
And here again look down the former host; 
Whose star with time no brilliancy has lost; 
Whose greatest joy was joy to gather near; 
Whose greatest genius, genius to revere. 
Then let a paean of my praise go forth, 
And float to south and float again to north. 
Let Holland here descend, to grace his home; 
Once more receive, once more his pastures roam! 

Was it not thou, Macaulay, who didst ask 
Where to begin, and, faltering at the task, 
Did once relate how fame was here to be. 
And thus th' enchanted paradise to see ^ 



152 HOLLAND HOUSE 

Then call to mind, O Muse, the scene again 
Where birth and beauty vied with wit and pen, 
Where Royal Prince with minister of state. 
Decided oft an empire's future fate! 
Reveal once more the hostess in her prime. 
Around her group the greatest of her time. 
Call down these stately figures, one by one. 
And for a time their silent canvas shun. 
Re-form th' historic pageant through the rooms 
Where many a royal treasure proudly looms. 
Awake again, thou spark of magic fire, 
That causes man his fellows to inspire! 
Oh, tear these mists that blind his sightless eyes, 
And raise once more his eff'orts to the skies! 

Yet while the vision grows in radiant air. 
And past retains the present in its care. 
The shadows fall; the guests depart; the air 
Resounds no longer with the wit they share. 
The ghosts of kings, of princes, and of lords 
Return to space in lamentable hordes. 

To-day, the masters of this fair abode 
Reveal its treasures, and renew their load. 
O'er many a meadow bearing Flora's gem. 



HOLLAND HOUSE 153 

The crimson wild-flower rears its slender stem. 
Through many a path made sacred to the Muse, 
A lover's thought the brighter day eschews. 
And while the modern world rolls heedless by, 
Here have remained these beauties, here to stay. 
Then, Time, let not thy ruthless hand impress 
One passing finger o'er this magic dress. 
Let not fair Holland House return to dust; 
Nor from th' historic past be lightly thrust! 
May ages yet untold these glories sing; 
Through years to come thy greatness still to ring! 

1902. 



ON A PICTURE OF CHARLES I 
AT BRIDGEWATER HOUSE ^ 

TO THE COUNTESS OF ELLESMERE 

Behold on high a monarch in his chair! 
Not in the throne of State, nor with his crown, 
Nor yet in regal robes, nor with renown; 
But bowed in dark yet dignified despair.^ 
Prepare, O King! thy martyr's fate prepare! 

Then in this evil company that cast 
Thy throne and sceptre to the earth at last. 
Receive this consequence of ruthless fate, 
And know the errors of thy soul too late. 
Not here do courtiers homage to thine hand; 
Not here the best the noblest of thy land ! 
But stained minions with unreverenced pace, 
Blow their foul wreaths of smoke into thy face.^ 
Ah! But 't is sad to see a king placed here, 

^ The picture referred to hangs on the east wall of the banqueting-room 
of Bridgewater House, and was painted by Delaroche. 

^ The picture, which is in the artist's noblest style, depicts King Charles I. 
seated in a chair after his trial. 

' Around him are soldiers, who are insulting him and blowing smoke 
from their pipes into his face. 



ON A PICTURE OF CHARLES I 155 

Replete with anguish (more than pride or fear), 
Despoiled of regal pomp, of power to pain 
Those that in wrath the very air profane! 
Condemned and tried by Cromwell's ruthless law, 
Sentenced to die, to know the prison door; 
Torn from his home, bespattered with his blood. 
Alone, overwhelmed, submerging in the flood! 
Charles, is it thus that England's king must die. 
Murdered by those that 'neath his sway should 
lie? 
Ah, speak again; in honesty atone! 
Revoke thy measures; hear thy country's groan! 
Retrieve, remount the ladder to thy throne! 
And who are these that now attend thy death, 
That stand or scoff with irreligious breath ? 
Where are thy troops, thy court, the gilded 

throng ? 
Oh, where are they, to right so great a wrong ? 

'T is but a canvas hung upon the wall 
That holds full many a treasured gem withal.^ 
Yet such a scene would bear the mind again 

^ Bridgewater House, built by the Duke of Bridgewater, is one of the 
great houses of London and contains a magnificent collection of old masters. 
It is at present the residence of the Earl and Countess of EUesmere. 



156 ON A PICTURE OF CHARLES I 

To days long past, yet fraught with royal pain. 
Thank God that then our years have no such 

sight, 
That for their King 't is now his courtiers fight! 
Stay! Near this very wall the Royal Heir 
To England's throne hath stepped in scene so 

fair, 
That strangers wondered at its radiant light, 
And thanked occasion for so glad a sight. 

Here fell his eyes upon this former King. 
Mayhap this sorrow through his soul shall ring, 
And bear its solemn meaning to the throne. 
That for the future marks him as its own. 
Such lessons bear at times the painter's art. 
Such thoughts the poet oft portrays in part. 
Such scenes revealed again, attain their end. 
And to new Kings to come their moral lend. 

1902. 



SHOTTESBROOKE PARK^ 

SONNET 

Here would the blushing rose the hours of 

June 
Make sweet with perfume, o'er the summer's 

air, 
And grace those alleys redolent and fair. 
That stretch beneath this half declining moon. 
And here let some new minstrel's harp attune 
Its strings to the gay dream of country days, 
Spent near the smiles and ever gracious ways 
Of the fair hostess, in the flowery noon. 
Then let me o'er this vista cast mine eye, 
And rest with pleasure near the aged yew; 
Mount to the haunted chamber, half in fear,^ 

* The seat of Guy Oswald Smith, Esquire, and the home of the Van- 
sittarts, from whom it was inherited. This sonnet was written on the 
occasion of a visit. 

2 The line refers to the "haunted chamber of the house in which the 
author slept, — though undisturbed by any evil spirits or ghosts, be it said. 



158 SHOTTESBROOKE PARK 

Lest through the night some phantom shade 

should fly; 
Recall in fancy songs that once were new, 
And now are borne again upon the ear! 



190 



I. 



CASTELLO DI BRAZZA ^ 

TO THE CONTE AND CONTESSA DI BRAZZA- 
SAVORGNAN 

On the heights of lovely Brazza, 

Light, my soul, to rest awhile, 

Whither Udine's fair piazza 

Sends its radiant summer smile. 

Here the vineyards warm with sunlight, 

And the mountains tipped with blue. 

Turn to radiance the twilight 

Of fair Friuli anew. 

Here the fancies of a lifetime 

Find their fullest value; here 

Glad the heart; its simple pastime 

Spent with nothing sad to fear. 

Happy fields in which to wander. 

At our ease, in joyous mood. 

Growing daily, hourly fonder 

^ Written on the occasion of a visit to the Castle of Brazza, near Udine, 
in the province of Friuli in northern Italy. The metre was suggested after 
reading some lines of Horace. 



i6o CASTELLO DI BRAZZA 

Of the truths that make men good. 
Roses bloom; the lemon blossom 
Gives its fragrance to the air, 
Sends its magic through my bosom. 
Thou, O Friuli, art fair! 

1900. 



VILLA MARIA 

CADENABBIA 

On the shores of lovely Como, 
In the soft ItaHan sun, 
Stands a villa — far from Olmo — 
Where we gathered, one by one. 
'T is a villa tall and stately, 
Where the fountain's marble rim 
Holds the golden fish, that lately 
O'er its surface lightly skim. 

There the oleanders bloom, 

And above, the olives loom; 

There my heart once found its treasure. 

And my soul its truest pleasure: 
On the shores of lovely Como, 
Where the oleanders bloom! 

From on high, a lovely maiden. 

Standing in a loggia cool. 

Once descried my own love-laden 



i62 VILLA MARIA 

Form beside the silent pool. 

Then the mountains turned to crimson, 

And the purples into blue! 

In the soft Italian season, 

Then our thoughts were sweet and true. 

Where the oleanders bloom. 
And the stately olives loom; 
On the shores of lovely Como, 
Far away from ducal Olmo; 
There was born my love of Como! 
There my heart would find her soon! 

1900. 



GREEN HILL 

Without the city's gate there stands 
A fair, enchanted group of lands, 
Where in the soft breath of the spring, 
I came to spend an hour, and there to sing.^ 

Steahng out o'er the velvet lawns are shades 
That spread deep tones upon the sparkling grades. 
And trembling birds bow the breath of May 
From waving trees, and sing their cheering lay. 
Out of some shady arbors there are born 
Light, fragrant odors toward the tiny morn, 
While from surrounding beds their perfume 

blows, 
And dogwood waves above the lilac rows. 
O Mistress of these flower-lined paths. 
Where Neptune would allay the playful wraths ^ 
Of waters, opening to the lily's bed. 
Do thou approach with light and graceful tread. 

^ These lines were written during the month of May, on an afternoon, 
while waiting for the hostess of Green Hill. 

2 The line refers to a leaden statue of Neptune, around which sprays 
from a fountain rise, falling again upon lilies surrounding the basin. 



i64 GREEN HILL 

Stay! Lead me there, beneath yon marble 

form, 
That I may Hnger yet, without the storm 
Of Hfe that turns the city's street to war, 
Half with mankind and half with nature's law. 
These works of art, these fountains from the 

south. 
That flow with ease from many a lion's mouth, 
These lines of green, these tulip-scattered lawns 
Would wake to life the heart that feebly mourns. 
Do thou then guide my thoughts to fairer skies, 
Thou sweet Green Hill, where tranquil pleasure 

lies! 

1899. 



MUSIC AT MRS. S 



Oh! Wake those strains, that from the lyre 

ascend 
To twine the heart with roses, that shall lend 
New perfume to light zephyrs, wafted off 
From sad abodes, that at their sadness scoff! 
Come leave this cold north wind, that chills the 

heart, 
And enter where new sunshine doth impart 
Its joy, that riseth from the softer strain 
Of music's charm, that o'er the soul shall reign. 
I 'd pass in sorrow many an idle hour. 
My drooping soul, to feel this subtile power. 
That floats far through the airs that here surround 
With grace their hostess, ne'er to be refound. 
Strange! That a word, a passing smile, a glance. 
The fairest hours of life would thus enhance 
With truer charms, — one note that shall not 

wane — 

^ The lines were written at Lenox during the autumn of 1899, and sent 
to the lady to whom they were addressed, after hearing some music at her 
villa. 



i66 MUSIC AT MRS. S 

And bring to youth some old time thoughts 

again ! 
Here in distinction's air we well may rest, 
And find sweet solace for the panting breast. 
Ah! Honored hostess, here we bow the knee. 
And lift our cup in homage unto thee. 
Take from the heart full many a feeling strain; 
Though rhymes may die, let music still remain! 

1899. 



SONG OF THE WEST WIND 

TO L. W. C. 



What refrain is the West Wind sighing, 

My heart, through the April day ? 

By the banks of this river lying, 

I hear some faint spirit say: 

"There are visions of unknown gladness 

Wafted o'er the faded leaves. 

They are blown by the wild wind's madness. 

Thus herald the summer sheaves." 

II 

What romance are the pine trees telling. 

While bending beneath the sway 

Of the gusts that are ever swelling, 

To waters with silver spray ? 

My frail bark turns around, and wavers 

In fear, on the changing breeze. 

The bough breaks, yet a voice that quavers, 

Bears a sound that we faintly seize. 



i68 SONG OF THE WEST WIND 

III 
Then in truth is the West Wind singing: 
"There comes after winter spring. 
Far away are the soft airs flinging 
All sadness, to softly bring 
The new life of a summer's brightness, 
Born thus from a summer's day: 
Tear away the dead leaves; the likeness 
Of heavenly peace lights the way! " 



DEATH'S MESSENGERS 

TO LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON 
I 

I SAT within a sheltered bower, 
One evening when the wind blew low; 
And as I dreamed, some unknown power 
Bore sounds upon the ocean's flow. 
Far o'er the sand to leaf and tree, 
And brought their messenger to me. 

II 
He came alone, a stealthy shadow, 
That spoke in whisper soft and dim. 
Left by the air, a poisoned arrow 
Held his thin garment to his limb. 
Fast through the night he swept along. 
And bore to me a mournful song. 

* The title for this poem was suggested by Mrs. Moulton, as were also 
several alterations from the first manuscript. 



170 DEATH'S MESSENGER 

III 
"Hail! Thou poor mortal of an hour, 
That thinkest life may guard thee still: 
Thy time hath flown in futile power. 
The shades draw nigh, thine hope to kill. 
Thy days are done; behold my face. 
We twain must run the solemn race.'' 

IV 

"Ah, life!" I cried, "where hast thou gone ? 
Where are thy days of promised love .? 
My heart hath known these sorrows long. 
That fall like weeping from above. 
Then, Death, dark Spirit, loose thy ties; 
For I would seek th' eternal skies!" 

1898. 



EPITHALAMIUM ' 

TO A LADY 

Ring out one long, harmonious wedding chime, 
Honoring a love, joined at this nuptial hour 
In music's fairest strain and fairest power; 
And tie true-lover knots. Let roses climb 
Above the altar's arch, and scent with thyme 
The air that wafts around sweet Hymen's 

bower. 
Far o'er the seas, I climb the castle tower. 
And seek rejoicing tidings that are mine. 

Let not a thought of sadness then remain, 
That I no longer be near by, to sing 
My own hymeneal song. My soul would give 
Its fullest wish for joy, untouched by pain. 
Its happiest line, while yet the chime shall ring. 
And cheer the bride and groom where'er they 
live. 

1901. 

^ The sonnet was written from a castle in England to a lady in America, 
on her approaching marriage. 



TO ADELAIDE 

How fair the name of Adelaide, to rest 
In fleeting music, o'er the parted Hp. 
And yet again, how sweeter still to sip 
The nectar flowing from the thought addressed, 
In fullest measure from the heart, and dream 
Of those uncounted charms that all are thine; 
To cheer the happy world where thou dost shine; 
And quell its sadness with their magic beam. 
Now would my lighter line fill out my page, 
And twine with fragrant flow'rs the brilliant life, 
That shines upon this radiant spring again. 
No thought of any cold or wintry age 
Shall pluck from thee the pleasures that are rife. 
For cloudless skies their warmth upon thee rain! 

1902. 



THE GREEN BOOK 

OF EARLY POEMS 



DEDICATION 

LINES WRITTEN ON THE FLY LEAF 

I HAD a new green book of idle leaves, 
When life was yet half found and all unknown. 
But in faint whispers came some early thoughts, 
To tell me of the strange, dim things of life. 
In quiet moments of repose they formed 
Their little pageant o'er the page of youth, 
And, such as they may be, are now disclosed, 
In all humility and imperfection's dress. 

1897. 



i^" vew'* *v>-^ 



THE GREEN BOOK 

Youth is ever green and young. 

Then guard thy song of youth, when sung 

In the spring of Hfe, and say 

'T was but a minstrel's early lay. 



NEW YEAR'S EVE 

The old year passes out of sight; 

The new comes on apace; 

And we look back o'er Time's down-trodden 

path. 
Our pleasures and our happiness, our sins, our 

wrath. 
Rise up and greet us face to face; 
Advancing with the old year's flight! 

1893. 



HOW FAST TIME FLIES 

Ah me! How fast time flies! 

How swift the moments go, 

That should have made us more than wise, 

Had we but once said no 

To Satan's smile; if we had twice 

Temptation treated so, 

To-day would we have had full thrice 

The strength that in us Hes! 

1894. 

THE AURORA 

A LUMINOUS and meteoric Hght arose 
Last eve, as I my homeward way did wind. 
Out of the northern night's repose. 
Its deep intensity upon the mind 
Impressed itself with many a passing flight. 
As mingling in their great majestic way, 
Long hnes of silver sheen renounced the night. 
The calm cold north, where oft they stay. 
Unseen, unknown, invisible throughout the day. 
And while they shone o'er some celestial land. 



THE AURORA 177 

I stood before this show of Heaven's hand. 

My eyelids closed, to open once again. 

The zenith of the sky bore in its train 

A thousand splendors gathering there around; 

While I in rapture Hstened for a sound, 

To give some speech to this strange symbol from 

the ground. 
But none there came. A stillness half defined 
There seemed instead to rest on everything, 
A worthy child of darkness and the blind, 
More true indeed than when we listen not. 
Yet seem to hear unconsciously the ring 
Of life and battle, 't is the common lot 
Of men to hear whilst in the realm of fight. 
But still the sky gave forth its wondrous sight. 
And we are left to heed it, or to think 
'T is but a flight of Nature's fancy, fair 
To see, and seen by men, again to sink 
Into its own oblivion and air! 

1894. 



SONNET 

Ah, fair and frosty February sky! 
Cold as the crystal waters of the deep, 
That through the day with sunlight greet the eye, 
And mirror thee at night when man 's asleep. 

Thy purple canopy is spread sublime, 
Bearing the spirit of the winter's night. 
Sending its rays of feathered light, each time 
We gaze with admiration at the sight. 

Thy magically fashioned evening star. 
High over all as Vesper sinks to rest; 
Thy waning moon, whose misty way doth mar 
The light upon the world to east and west: 

These and their thoughts, of which the soul is 

fond. 
Breathe of th' aerial atmosphere beyond. 

1894. 



LINES 

WRITTEN ON A SABBATH MORNING 

Hail unto thee, sublime and wintry morn, 
Fairer and yet more fair for thy sublimity! 
Thy soft and silvery beams of light are born 
From the great emblem of eternity! 
I wake, and find me in a jewelled hall, 
Dazzling with crystal beams around, above, 
A beauty indescribable on all. 
That radiant surety of Nature's love. 
A myriad of beams, like birds in flight. 
Pour forth, a joyous army of delight! 
Their lances shining, pierce the misty glass. 
Glancing, they gleam as onward they would float 
In wondrous majesty, and swiftly pass. 
Mantling the air with their new-fashioned coat. 
On waves of magic seas into the room. 
And purge my soul, and break the Lenten gloom. 

And thus my soul awoke from what had been 
A long, dark, deep, and melancholy night. 
Clouding the youthful visions I had seen. 
Ere darker shades had closed about my sight. 



i8o LINES 

My spirit leapt in true and heavenly joy, 
Loosed from its thorny bondage of the past, 
Clothed in the new-born vigor of a boy 
Who finds the longed-for freedom his at last. 
A metamorphosis of spirit o'er me came. 
Making me one v^hose sudden minstrelsy 
Sang to the sacred multitude around. 

I floated forth v^ith them, in ecstasy. 
Thus suddenly to know that I had found 
A place in the great font of Nature's love, 
That often I had seen, afar and dim. 
And recognized as something from above. 
Addressed in youth with many a prayer and 

hymn. 
Far into the unknown we swiftly sailed, 
Over the cold and wintry airs of dawn. 
The sparkling sunbeams left their fairy trail 
Over the parting mists of early morn. 
Thus through the sky we floated, and away, 
Borne by the unresisting heavenly light. 
Enveloped in a sense of new delight, 
O'er the pale seas of the approaching day. 

And then I found me lifted far in air. 
The heavenly host retired, and I gazed. 



SONNET i8i 

And saw the face of Heaven itself laid bare. 
Then suddenly my soul returned, amazed, 
To this poor frame that holds it for a space. 
I lay upon my bed yet filled with grace, 
And rose with joy to meet the sabbath day. 
Oh, light me then ! Oh, hear my humble prayer ! 
Cast off my sins, and dry this bitter tear! 
And light, O God, the channel of my way! 

1894. 

SONNET 

FIRST PUBLISHED IN THE "BOSTON EVENING 
TRANSCRIPT," FEBRUARY 1 3, 1 894 

Again the Christian's panorama turns 

The Lenten season to our saddening gaze; 

Sad that the fire of evil ever burns 

Within us, through a year of life's dark maze. 

And we, in sombre garb with bowing head 
Look back upon the moments wasted, lost, 
Their numbers causing us to shrink, and dread 
The consequences that our follies cost. 



1 82 LOVE'S KNOWLEDGE 

We cast aside the pleasures of the past. 
Our shattered resolutions to the church 
We bring, in hopes that they may be recast. 
But faltering at the gate, our hearts we search 

Careless and full of wrong has been the year. 
The truth is still so far — and yet so near! 



LOVE'S KNOWLEDGE 

I 
Afar away, there seems to be a distant light 

approaching. 
Near and ever nearer with a growing force 
That wavers often, though 't is always on the 

night encroaching. 
Changing darkness into light, and slaying 

night's remorse. 

II 

Afar away upon the sea of life there is awak'ning. 
With an unknown power, Love's satiety. 
Whose mark, as years roll by, the tide of time 

will soon be making 
On those who without it know not life's entirety. 



LOVE'S KNOWLEDGE 183 

III 

Then is the Hght upon the sea approaching, and 
begetting 

Wisdom and a wise man's love of true philosophy ? 

Or is the vision vain ? Am I all that I knew for- 
getting ? 

Surely such a thought would be but vain so- 
Hloquy. 

IV 

Ah, yes, it is the heavenly hght of earthly know- 
ledge growing, 

Stronger still and stronger as o'er life we go; 

Beloved and loving all around, the seeds of love 
still sowing. 

Changing darkness into light. Would all the 
world were so! 
1894. 



DEPARTURE 



To-night I sleep o'er the deep, 
And sleeping still I sail, 
r the dawning of morning, 
While night and day are pale. 

II 
Dear One, I creep for a peep. 
In vain for those I leave 
Far behind; to my mind 
Their holy love shall cleave. 

Ill 
So do not weep; rather keep 
A glad heart, to bewail 
Nor the parting, nor starting 
For mountains from the vale! 

1894. 

The lines were written on board a ship, prior to its departure. 



ON A LITTLE CHILD 

A FRAGMENT 
I 

I MET a little child the other day. 

So fair was she, she might have been a fay, 

Or sprite, she was so bright. 

I lost myself in love. 
And found new pleasures at the sight. 

II 

Alas! My love must unrequited go. 

For in some younger channel hers did flow. 

At first, I half had cursM: 

She was indeed so like 
One who had satisfied Love's early thirst. 

Ill 
A fair and childlike " JuHet" she made. 
Her tiny ringlets hanging, as she bade 
A fond farewell, for aye 
It seemed to her. 
As "Romeo," like Cupid, fled away! 
1894. 



THE CHATELAINE OF SAINT AIGNAN 

I WALKED along an avenue of trees, 

Straight, though their time-worn trunks showed 

growing signs 
Of age and wrinkles, to the whispering breeze. 
And told of bygone histories in misty lines. 

Nor with beginning nor a settled end. 
Their course unerring held a stately guard 
High o'er the ground, that in a ragged bend 
Reviewed the winding river, stern and hard. 
Behind there rose, out of the morning sun 
The ancient walls — carved in that master hand, 
The Gothic Renaissance hath ever won 
Through this fair land — 
Of an old chateau rising proud and high 
Above the mediaeval walls out of the town. 
Below it nestled, seeming weak and shy; 
Like some fair maid beneath this noble crown. 

I turned, and saw a trooper flying past. 

His steed, hung with its armor cold and gray. 

Fled o'er the shaded avenue so fast, 



CHATELAINE OF SAINT AIGNAN 187 

That as I rose to draw myself away 

From his strange path, that in its swiftness led 

Beyond the canopied retreat wherein I stood, 

I turned; and with a cold, unearthly dread. 

Lest in my reveries and lingering mood 

I should be cast by him aside. 

His fleeting course wound ever on 

In a strange, ghostly, spectral ride. 

That seemed the race of an enchanted one 

Upon the soft earth and the grass beneath. 

A moment's pause upon the rustling air 

Showed that above his brow a plaited wreath 

He wore, of branches half unknown but fair. 

Brought from far lands that he had proudly won. 

Arrived before the chateau's ancient door. 
He halted, resting the while half in air; 
Then sprang from saddle to the leafy floor 
That lay beneath, and called his Lady Fair. 

And while I looked in wondering fear, I saw 
Float from the upper casement a light form. 
Clothed all in white; and on her head she bore 
Chaplets of roses circhng to her arm, 
And in her hand held one as fair as she; 
And smiHng kissed the rose, and fell betime 



[88 CHATELAINE OF SAINT AIGNAN 

Into the trooper's fond embrace, to be 
At the next moment torn away! A crime 
Had been committed, now full many a year, 
Upon the mistress of the chateau here; 
Yet still her lover to her charms did bow, 
And in the sunny noontide leave her bier, 
And find her spirit lovingly as now! 

1894. 



THE FAIRY PRINCESS 

There lived within her palace of delight 

A Fairy Princess, fair to look upon, 

Whose countenance was an enchanted sight. 

That made all other beauty pale and wan. 

And fade in sad and dim comparison. 

There in the midst of vast, innumerable halls. 

Of crystallized or jewelled stalactite. 

And many a precious gem, within their walls. 

Throwing their richly colored beams to right. 

To left, above, below, on every hand; 

So that the eyes were ravished at the sight. 

And perfumes far beyond conception, fanned 

The nostrils with each faintest wave of air: 

There, in the midst of this ecstatic lair, 

A veritable shrine and paradise. 

And seated amid bowers that would entice 

The sternest and most austere man to love, 

Or admiration of the place, its Mistress sat. 

Her courtiers with gay dissipation strove 
To cheer her, stretched upon a Persian mat, 



190 THE FAIRY PRINCESS 

Scented with spices and sweet fragrant airs, 
That swept the nostrils with their varying kinds; 
And gathering round the throne, in eager pairs, 
Hummed their soft music to the Eastern winds. 

Yet as she sat, in half desponding mood, 
A white-winged falcon floated through the hall, 
Holding within its beak an oHve branch; 
And for a moment, near the throne it stood. 
And perched on high, and swept against the wall. 
And on the Princess dropped the fatal branch. 

Then through the courtiers passed a sudden 
stir; 
Thus to perceive a bird from Greenland's peak. 
Here in the air of frankincense and myrrh, 
Alive through climates, where the eastern streak 
Of early dawn destroys the northern heather; 
Here, in defiance of the winds and weather, 
CircHng the fairy palace of their Queen. 
Ne'er in this hall had such a sight been seen. 
As the white falcon in a southern clime. 
Far from its native snows and icy sheen. 
Showing its speckled wings in summer time. 

Then, to the wonder of her courtier train. 
The Princess rose, and with a rapturous smile 



THE FAIRY PRINCESS 191 

Held forth her arm, and made it straightway 

plain 
That the swift bird her languor should beguile. 

CircHng the jewelled hall again, he Kghted 
On the fair hand of his awaiting queen, 
And thus, unknown, his fairy troth was plighted; 
For the next moment those around had seen 
Change the white falcon to a Prince delighted! 

Oh, happiest moment of the fairy realm! 
The Princess now a Queen, the Prince a King, 
Th' enchantment of a lifetime overwhelm. 
And seal their union with the magic ring! 

1894. 



TO MY LADY LOVE 



So far away my thoughts did rove 
Last evening, that they formed a ditty, 
Worthy of nought, nor wise, nor witty; 
Yet such as it is, 't is to my Lady Love : 

II 
Thou art indeed a fairy maid. 
To hold my heart, my soul; to dally 
With so unsought a love; to sally. 
With a sweet summer's blush on thy features 
laid. 

Ill 
Ah, but, my gentle lady, pray, 
While I gaze on thy fairy beauty. 
Give to thy swain this pleasant duty. 
Here at thy feet, his hand and heart to lay ! 

1895. 



THE QUESTION 

I 
Dost thou love me, as I love thee ? 
As I love one, dost thou love two ? 
Or is it — as I thought I knew — 
That thou lov'st me, as I love thee ? 

II 

Do I love thee, as thou lov'st me ? 
I know not. But if I 'm not true, 
No man e'er loved: I would I knew 
That I to thee was all thou art to me! 

1895. 



A BRIDAL SONG 

I 

Comes there a time when God above 
And men below would join in love. 
Or happiness more bright and gay, 
Than on a lover's wedding day ? 



194 A BRIDAL SONG 

Lives there a moment, ne'er forgot, 
More sacred to the earthly lot, 
When blushing maid with conquered man. 
Before an altar join the bann ? 

Ill 
Then ring this merry peal of bells: 
Of earthly paradise it tells; 
Forever old, forever new; 
Forever sweet, and ever true. 

IV 

Oh, strike the bell, and send thy gift, 
Before this marriage day shall lift 
The wedding veil from off thine eyes, 
Showing new joys and sunny skies! 

1897. 



SUMMER HOURS 



Summer hours! To float away, 
And seek some distant nook, 
Where in the warm breath of the day 
We find some busy brook. 

II 
Summer hours! To cast aside 
The city's smoke and war. 
And Hghtly carry off our bride. 
To live in Love's sweet law! 

Ill 
Summer hours! To tear apart 
All that is worst in Hfe; 
To pluck, in June, some lover's heart; 
'T is thus we banish strife! 

1897. 



THE ENCHANTRESS 

I 
I CAME at evening as I rode, 
To where the sea sinks from the land, 
And leaves a shadowy abode. 
To rise out of the ocean's hand. 

II 
And as the steep incline I gained. 
The shaded outlines of the home 
Of some fair mistress half refrained. 
And half allowed the eye to roam. 

Ill 
Yet as the soft air fanned the head, 
The door turned, and disclosed the form 
Of the Enchantress, who had led 
My steps from the approaching storm. 

IV 

Sweet Lady, may I then remain 
With thee, an hour of fancy spend .? 



THE ENCHANTRESS 197 

(For fancy often we would fain, 
To our own heart's desire lend.) 



To drink, in cool refreshing draught. 
To the Enchantress and the place. 
While laurel branches faintly waft 
Sweet odors o'er the languid face. 

VI 

Yet, fair Enchantress, even shades 
Steal on apace, and I away 
Must hie me, ere the twilight fades 
Into the enemy of day. 

VII 

Then, ere we part, one word I breathe; 
One, after many in music's sound 
From thy fair voice would I bequeath 
Unto this sea-encircled mound. 

VIII 

Turn once again the long lost door, 
That I may find within its fold 



198 MEMORY 

This hospitable hall once more, 
And feel the subtle charm of old! 



IX 

Farewell! The shadows longer grow. 
Life passes on; the years ride by. 
Time turns the glass of hours that flow. 
Turn once again, and let it lie. 

X 

Ah, then, Enchantress, may this rest 
Be oft repeated, as I ride 
O'er the broad seas, that serve at best 
To bring two mortals side by side I 

1897. 

MEMORY 



An old house stands upon the hill. 
With memories my heart to fill 
As I retrace these long lost days. 
Enjoyed amid its peaceful ways. 



MEMORY 199 

II 
There are indeed few things that dwell 
Upon the heart, their joys to tell 
In after years, more full of peace 
Than those few things that shall not cease. 

Ill 

We speak of friends : 't were better said. 
Some higher path than mortals tread 
Leads them in time to nobler hearts. 
Beating with love that never parts. 

IV 

To those who toil upon the hill 
Of life, they seem untutored still; 
To sport upon the quick'ning sod. 
Where older feet have sadly trod. 



To those beyond they stand as men 
Who bear the shadow of a fen. 
Folding within its treacherous creek 
Their youth, whene'er its haunt they seek. 



200 MEMORY 

VI 

Yet to the hill, our journey o'er, 
We would retrace our steps once more, 
And live again one youthful hour, 
Where friendship held so fair a power. 

VII 

The house still stretches wide its door. 
Some footsteps, echoing o'er the floor, 
Fade out again. But where are they 
Whose hearts gave forth the joyous lay .? 



VIII 

Some say that Memory is dear. 
To those who for the future fear. 
Yet would I still remain the last. 
Held by dim shadows of the past! 

1897. 



THE STREAM 

I 
What is it in yon stream I hear ? 
Such music ne'er hath reached my ear, 
As from the meadow wanders up, 
Born like some magic loving cup ? 

II 
And whence doth rise this soft refrain, 
To feed my heart, and fill the brain 
With every sound that spring may bring. 
And in its melody to sing ? 

Ill 
The note seems like an echo brought. 
As o'er the western wind is wrought 
The gentler sound, the peaceful dream 
Of some rejoicer in the stream. 

IV 

Of its new life, we know nor care. 
Save if its voice be in the air. 



202 FUTURITY 

Of its own happiness we feel 
But this, as on the grass we kneel. 

V 

Of its dark bed, beneath the veil 
Of sunlit waters, through the dale; 
Of its chance care, its toil or woe. 
What may we human beings know ? 

VI 

But if in Springtime life doth sing, 
Let us rejoice with this plain thing; 
Our voice joined to its heaven-tuned air; 
And live an hour in nature's lair! 
1897. 



FUTURITY 

I 
Is there an unseen hand within the soul, 
To pierce these shades of dim Futurity ? 
Or are we beings born to know no goal 
And take life's passage in security ? 



FUTURITY 203 

II 

Yet as the heart pours out its own deep thought, 
A light, an unknown harbinger of day. 
Breaks in the distant scene (where there was 

nought 
But cold and darkness), with a brilHant ray. 

Ill 
There are indeed more treasures in the years 
That roll in unknown numbers at the feet 
Of all frail mortals than the ocean bears 
To watery Neptune in his cold retreat. 

IV 

Let us then seek to tread the Soul's fair way 
Into the far gray atmosphere above. 
Leaving all thoughts unhonored by our day 
To fall and perish in the realm of love. 

1896. 



ANNIVERSARY ' 

I 
As old and honored Time flies by, 
In his strange circle of the year, 
There comes a moment when we sigh: 
The winter dies, and spring is here. 

II 
This season brought into our Hfe 
The first impressions of a place. 
Made dear to us amid the strife 
Of youth, and dearer as we face 

III 
Our world, in its uncertain Hght, 
As unknown promises arise. 
As we pursue the earnest flight 
From darker clouds to brighter skies. 

IV 

Tell us, dear place, where first we found 
That life was more than we had thought; 

* Written on the occasion of "Anniversary Day" at St. Paul's School, 
Concord, N. H., June 3, 1897. 



ANNIVERSARY 205 

As in affection we abound, 

May we return where we were taught. 

V 

And once again as summer's air 
Has wafted in its sweet refrain, 
And turf and tree grow green and fair. 
We find St. Paul's our home again. 

VI 

Then to her Chapel we would go. 
And honor those who lie beyond, 
Join in her games, or swell the flow 
Of youth beside the glimmering pond. 

VII 

Seek with me yet again the brook. 
Where on a time I used to spend 
A treasured hour with friend or book. 
And stones into the water send. 

VIII 

Tell us once more that life is well, 
That those departing still return 
To organ note, to peal of bell. 
As in their hearts thy fires burn. 



2o6 TO OUR MOTHER 

IX 

Then let us raise a final cheer, 

Guarding its echoes as we go, 

And keep the Anniversary here, 

That marks these numbering years that grow. 

1897. 



TO OUR MOTHERS 

I 
Oh, thou first guardian of a man's own heart, 

The hero's truest friend. 
Thou, who with tears hast seen his youth depart, 
And time its sadness lend 
To his advancing life: 
Where may he turn for aid, when thou hast 
passed the strife ? 

II 
Tender in care and thoughtful in thy love, 

Thou art the noblest one 
Of all his thoughts that lead to paths above. 

As the dark waters run 

^ Written on the birthday of the author's mother. 



TO OUR MOTHER 207 

O'er his half lighted path, 
Thine everlasting constancy deters their wrath. 

Ill 
There is one day within each busy year 

When we may pause to bow, 
Or kneeling bend and leave a joyful tear 

On thy beloved brow, 

And wish for a return 
Of this same day upon Hfe's ever changing urn. 

IV 

Rejoice with us, for our own Mother lives, 
All who have knov^n her love; 

For the diviner breath of Heaven still gives 
Its treasure from above 
Unto its worthy sons; 

That it may rest and sanctify while their life runs. 

1897. 



TO LADY MARY 

ON HER BIRTHDAY 



Sixteen or twenty-one, to-day ? 

Ah, that is difficult to say. 

So wreathed in youth and graceful charm, 

Is she toward whom we bend our arm! 

II 
A couplet scarce could hold the health 
We drink to happiness and wealth. 
A triple verse were better far. 
To reach a heart that nought should mar! 

Ill 
Sixteen or twenty-one, I say. 
Wouldst thou not tell us. Lady May .? 
Still, let thine age be what it be. 
Thou art both young and fair to me! 

1897. 



DREAMS 



Sweet dreams, gentle dreams, 
Fraught with visions of dehght. 
Fill all my waking hours with beams 
Of new and radiant light. 

II 
Soft dreams, peaceful dreams. 
Known but to the joyous soul. 
Reveal an imagery, that seems 
The God of all my goal. 

1897. 



LINES WRITTEN AT SUNSET 

Ah, deepening circles of the setting sun! 
What volumes to my soul would you unfold, 
O'er the wide wintry course my life has run, 
Of laurels lost, of victories yet untold ! 



210 L'ENVOI 

Thus would I love to dream away my days; 
My fleeting visions fraught with flames of fire, 
To light some men upon their tortuous ways; 
That ere I died I might the world inspire! 
1897. 



L'ENVOI 

I CLOSE the new Green Book of idle leaves, 
Now filled, and older with the years of youth 
That have thus passed by in health or pain. 
And as I turn the pages of my heart, 
I find some passages are graven here 
With the imperfect chisel that we hold. 
When first we carve the future with our hand. 
Yes, dear gray Time, I bless thy passing step. 
Though it oft brings its load of care and toil, 
Yet leaves upon us the impress of life. 
The wedded harmony of joy and woe. 

1897. 



UNFINISHED POEMS AND 
FRAGMENTS 



< 3 > j^^^^^^^SS?^^^^^^ ;; ;5^^ 



LINES WRITTEN IN NORMAND^^ 

A Norman landscape with a cloak of green, 
That might fiill tell us of a land of love, 
Where we forget our grief in thoughts on high : 
An hillside, where the faint beams of the sun 
Fall in their gentle light upon the scene. 
And make the heart beat with the thoughts of 

love. 
Or love's own fancy in its fairy hour: 
Such is the place, where in an idle mood 
I brought myself, to dream away the time 
Of early sunset though invisible. 

The cuckoo's note fell soft upon the ear, 
To drown the Hghter sounds of summer even. 
In its own deeper tone of melody. 
The faint caw of some thievish crow disturbed, 
Its distant cadence lent unto the air. 
And soon I found myself, though not asleep. 
Yet moved, as by some higher, natural power 
Than we do know as inmates of the world. 
A wandering mood took hold upon my heart; 



214 LINES WRITTEN IN NORMANDY 

And without thought of any plan but this, 
My soul strayed far beyond the hillside and the 
scene. 

Thus in a magic moment's time, it fled 
Back to the days of long unburied past; 
When the great Conqueror sallied from his shores 
To found an Empire's power by his sword. 
Or the fair Maid of Rouen, burned with fire, 
Sought for her deeds a martyr's tragic end. 
Lifted in thought; the air seemed filled with 
glory. 
And to my vision showed a future state. 
Tranquil and filled with peace and songs of birds. 
And unattended by the sounds of war. 
There the soft land of Normandy displayed 
Its smiling valleys, where the silky herds 
Grazed happily, and ran with milk betimes. 
And as the sun broke over radiant France, 
I saw its peace revealed through years to come. 
Shorn of its kingly glories though it be. 
Yet blessed by deep-felt joy and tranquil laws. 
No more shall tyrant cause the Norman maid 
To pierce the heart of man, besmeared with 
blood. 



LINES WRITTEN IN DEJECTION 215 

Nor Marat yet again a Corday bring 
From the dark agonies of anarchy! 

Here in thy peaceful pastures let me dream, 
Casting all evil from the drooping eyes, 
And on thy meadowy couch find rustic joy, 
As eventide draws fragrance from the day! 

1894-. 



LINES WRITTEN IN DEJECTION 

A DEEPENING melancholy shades the hour. 

That should be privileged in early life; 

A pall of sadness covering the power. 

That is youth's gift, to battle through its strife. 

A cruel hand has cast my sacred hope 

Into this deep, unfathomable woe. 

Where with Dejection I must vainly cope. 

And leave my vanished happiness below. 

1894. 



"TO BE WITHOUT" 

To be without one day of peace, 

One idle thought, one tear: to cease 

The occupation of an hour 

For other cares; nor feel the power 

Of blest simplicity, to shower 

Its fragrant joy : — this is not life. 

'T is but an everlasting strife. 

1897. 



LIFE 

O Life, thou art indeed to me 
Dull pain and wretchedness and hate. 
Joys and delights too vast to see. 
Tormenting dreams of power and fate, 
A wondrous, overwhelming mass! 

1897. 



LINES 

WRITTEN AFTER WAKING FROM A DREAM 

A VOICE within the watches of the night 
Sang to me, "Rise and ride into the dawn. 
There shalt thou find new powers from the 

world, 
And turn to Hght the darkness now that reigns." 
I raised the girdle of my sword, and woke 
The guards who lay beyond my couch, and 

found 
The latch of the great door, that bound the 

world 
Of mine own self from that without the gate. 
A passing hawk flew by, with fleeting wing, 
A circling omen of th' approaching wind; 
And I rode onward, with my men behind. 
Like warriors of the old, old days now dead; 
And suddenly beheld the plain of life! 

1897. 



ENVY AND DISCONTENT 

Envy and discontent rode forth. 
They drew strange clouds of woe, 
That floated from the south to north, 

Unto the world to go. 
"Curse on thy fair success," sighed one. 
"I hate thee!" cried the other; 
"Thou hast the prize I should have won!" 
And thus they passed together. 

1897. 



HAPPINESS 

Ah, Happiness! why hast thou flown away.? 
Time was when thou didst linger 
Near to my soul, and point thy magic finger 
Toward the warm sun, that streaming through 

my day, 
Brought visions of unsought and true delight 
That now, alas, are lost within the ni8:ht! 

1897. 



THE DEATH OF SUMMER 

Fair Summer lies upon a bed of flowers, 
With leaves half faded as she dreams in peace. 
The air blows o'er her couch with chiUing breath, 
And yet she slumbers, as she still reclines. 
Pale votaries of warmth grow gray and weary 
Falhng around with faint and fainter life. 
And yet the Goddess of it all doth sleep. 

Oh, wake! For thou art now indeed still 
bathed 
In beauty and in youth! Awake, awake! 
For thou hast yet some space in which to Hve, 
When thou may'st give thy radiance to earth. 
Oh, wake! Why dost thou lie so cold and numb 
In silence and in mutability .? 
The Goddess keeps her deep tranquiUity, 
Even as our cry doth hold its saddening note. 

Arise ! But thou art dead ! Ah, thou art dead, 
To slumber now until the pregnant spring. 
In joy revealed, gives birth to thee again. 
E'en now the frosty air comes flying by! 
Autumn, thou dying ember of the year, 
Approach! 'T is thine the hour in which to live. 



220 LINES ON NATURE 

Pale Summer sleeps, and thou indeed dost reign 
In golden splendor o'er the fleeting day! 

1897. 

AUTUMN 

The first faint breath of Autumn in the air 

Would turn pale Summer from her drowsy bed; 
To give one last sigh of despair, 
When leaves are turning red. 

Oh, wake th' autumnal lyre and away! 

To sing the sad song of the dying year. 

For thou hast yet, in Heaven, a prayer to say 
For those that Hnger here. 

1897. 

LINES ON NATURE 

WRITTEN IN SPRING 

I STRAYED out, far into the country-side, 
One sunny day, and found myself alone; 
And wandered there among sweet shady trees. 
Where the caress of honey-scented Spring 



LINES ON NATURE 221 

Had drawn light blushes o*er their maiden 

boughs, 
And sent its spray of foliage on every hand. 

Tell me, strange life of Nature, thus observed, 
Where v^e are found by God, who lives in us, 
And speaks to the true hearted in a voice 
Unknown to those who love not gentleness, 
Where art thou hidden, in mysterious shades 
Of our existence that in Heaven had birth ? 
There are strange thoughts that well within our 

souls. 
As we grow swiftly into early manhood.' 
Casting aside the trappings of our youth. 
We stand forth boldly o'er the stage of life, 
And gaze in awe upon our destiny. 
And there appears before our untrained eyes 
A Hght, as we do search th' horizon's line. 
All filled with an anxiety to learn 
Some secrets from our own surrounding world. 
Truth! Though in our pale ignorance we 
turn 
From thy diviner power in later years, 
And fall into strange chasms of ourselves. 
Thou art forever the approaching guide 



222 LINES WRITTEN BY WAYSIDE 

To nobler realms and great accomplishment! 
High o'er the brow, in majesty thou floatest, 
As we would fain pursue life's fitful way; 
And as we seek for thee, thou may'st descend. 
Crowning with greater joy our victory. 
1897. 



"TO BREATHE SWEET ODORS'' 

To breathe sweet odors, and in peace. 
To turn from silent toil, to cease 
In one short moment sounds of woe; 
Finding love with us would go: 
This is life, tranquil hfe. 
Free from all discordant strife. 
1897. ^ 



LINES WRITTEN BY THE WAYSIDE 

Over the heavy air of early summer 
Arose the hum of many a pleasing voice. 
Born from the sylphs that lined the shady dell. 
Wrapt in the warmth of an enchanted hour. 



LINES WRITTEN BY WAYSIDE 223 

The breath of our belated, panting steed 
Came fast, as we at ease withdrew our rein. 
Murky below, the stream wound sulkily, 
A way that knew no willing source nor goal. 
The voices rose, and we in joy refrained 
From pressing forward on our wayward course. 

And listening to the happy sounds of summer, 
That came and went in many a note of joy, 
Heavy the eyelids grew by music's fan. 
And soon we fell with heaviness asleep. 

And there we dreamed of magic fairy forms; 
While sylphs came dancing forth in winged 

groups. 
That spread around our fancy love-born showers, 
And kisses fell upon the lips half closed, 
And visions of the fairy dell revealed 
New pleasures that in life are all unknown. 
The tall trees waved above the sultry air. 
Each flower within this dreamy land, bedewed, 
Lay trembling with a watery diamond, 
And moonbeams played with shadows by our 

side, 
While whisperipg soft sweet pleasures in the ear. 

1897. 



LIFE AND DEATH 

Ah, how these shades and shadows form 
Our own dim selves, defaced and torn 
By journeys o'er the surging seas 
Of Life or Death, without release! 
Then would I pass, to unknown hours 
Bedecked with honey-laden flowers; 
And know no more of life than this : 
To live 'neath one eternal kiss. 



"TO LOVE YET NE'ER BE LOVED 

To love, yet ne'er be loved, ah me! 
This is the keenest pain of all. 
To feel one being near, to see 

Love's tower fall; 
To lisp the poor dull panting song. 
That bears each image of our lifelong hope; 
To weep, to sigh, to sadly long. 
And in despair to mope — 

1898. 



FRAGMENT 

Oh, that I were once more upon the sea, 
To Merrie England bound, my love, with thee; 
Or in its place, to some soft climate led 
By the south wind, upon a mossy bed! 

1897. 

"LEAVE ME BUT A CHILD" 

Oh, leave me but a child of Nature, 

As I live. 
To dwell beside some simple pasture; 

There to give 

Each happy hour 

The nobler power 

That we breathe into life; 
And I may rise over the blue. 

With only a few. 

Where happiness is rife. 

1897. 



"SO YOUNG AND YET SO OLD" 

So young and yet so old/ 

To be a poet and live! 

So lightly to enfold, 

All that we would forgive, 

In childhood's hour; 

Its later power. 

To cast o'er sea and land. 

To wave above thy magic wand 

That stays — these are thy subtle ways, 

O Genius, that despair repays! 

1897. 

OVERTURE ^ 

Well then to thoughts and chance poetic fancies, 
Such as they be, I would devote these leaves 
Made tender by the hand of friendship's tie, 
And dedicate at their first opening. 
To make some confidence beneath its clasp! 

1897. 

^ These lines referred to a person known to the author. 
^ First written for the Spirit oj Love, but afterwards rejected, as a dedi- 
cation. 



LINES TO CONTE CARLO EMO 

ACCOMPANYING A PICTURE 

WouLDST thou receive these lines, good friend, 

That with my features I would send 

To thee, but yet with many a sigh 

That long drawn years have passed by. 

Ere I had vowed to lay my head, 

A' wearied, o'er Italians bed ? 

1898. 

TOURAINE 

SOME YEARS AFTER VISITING IT 

Ah, fair Touraine! how wouldst thou hold my 

heart. 
As thy pale dreams, awakening joy, impart 
To my poor soul, that haunts the stones laid 

bare; 
And breathe again thine history-laden air! 
Sweet are thy groves and light, thy sunny skies; 
Happy each cloud that o'er their surface flies; 



228 LINES WRITTEN AT VERSAILLES 

Graceful thy towers that toward the heavens 

arise, 
Crowning those jewels that the world would 

prize. 

1898. 



LINES WRITTEN AT VERSAILLES 

IN THE PARK NEAR THE BASIN OF NEPTUNE 

Now would I wind my peaceful days 
Round these fair woods, these silent ways! 
For here pass'd Vanity has laid 
A crown of beauty o'er the head. 
An air of sentiment that dwells. 
In these now long deserted dells. 
Here courts and crowned women sang, 
And with their loves these echoes rang! 

1900. 



LINES WRITTEN AT HAMILTON 

WHILE SEARCHING FOR A SUITABLE PLACE IN 
WHICH TO WRITE SOME POETRY 

I AM making a primary tour of inspection, 
To find some bucolic and kindly protection; 
To rest in the wood, in profoundest reflection; 
Or bathe me in Hamilton's gay predilection! 

Still homeless, in search of a house, I am seen 
Now disporting myself with a book on the green; 
Now tearing my hair for a rhyme to "between," 
Or refraining from thoughts — till I know what 

they mean! 
Yet the ways of a poet have some compensation. 
He 's poor; but his joy — 't is the world's com- 
mendation. 
Posterity honors, though never repays 
Half the care or the pain that he spends on his 

lays! 
Yet if fame he can hold at the end of his life, 
He will gladly espouse the fair Muse as a wife, 
And go down to his grave — though he starve by 

the way — 
With an happier heart than most men of his day! 
1898. 



STONEOVER 

WRITTEN WHILE WANDERING THROUGH THE 
WOODS AT STONEOVER, LENOX 

I've found a bank where stones and sprays 
Of pattering water find their ways, 
Through woods and fields and pastures gay, 
Where man with nature seems at play; 
Through weeds and rushes that shall tell 
My secrets to the fairied dell. 
For here I pour my heart's delight. 
And with the sunshine take my flight. 

1898. 

A WELCOME 

WRITTEN ABOVE THE DOOR OF A ROOM 

He who may enter this my shrine 
Shall share with me my cup of wine. 
And find warm welcome in the bowl. 
To cheer his heart and find my soul. 

1898. 



EPITAPH 

TO A FALLEN TREE 

Full many a year of silent toil to-day 
Falls in an hour beneath the woodman's blow, 
And nature mourns as he the homeward way 
Of man, rejoicing to destroy doth go. 

1898. 

THE INN^ 

An old, old Inn, 

Partly akin; 
Partly a legacy to win 
The passing traveller, weary, wise. 
To rest him here beneath the skies. 
A draught of ale, a drop of gin — 
What matters life ? The wheel doth spin; 
And we must end where we begin. 

1897. 

^ Lines writen upon the door of a room at the Groton Inn. 



THANKS TO AN OLD WOMAN ^ 

I SAT within this hall, to rest 
(An ancient house that Time hath blest): 
Thanks, kindly mistress; may good cheer 
And God be with thee many a year! 

1897. 



UNREQUITED LOVE 

Love that is unrequited, or untuned 
By honor's voice, or where the heart is given 
In holiest form, yet finds but paltry seed 
Sown on the highways of the lighter sort. 
Were best returned to that high shrine from 

whence it came. 
And death dealt out to those that toy with life. 

1899. 

* Written to the mistress of an old house, on receiving some hospitality. 



BRIDAL FANFARE 

Ding, dong, wedding bells, 
Ring wherever Hymen dwells! 
Away, away! Arise the day, 
When happiness the God foretells! 

1898. 



^^^^^w^1^,^^'"^\.v^^.He > 



COUPLETS 
OTIS 

WRITTEN ON THE DOOR OF A ROOM AT OTIS, 
AFTER COMPLETING THE "SPIRIT OF LOVE " 

Here have I passed inspired days, 
With Poesy's art and peaceful ways. 



SORROW 

Sorrow, some note of future joy shall bring, 
To harbinger th' approach of early spring. 



JOY 

But joy some pang of sorrow still retains. 
That pierces half the pleasure that remains. 

1898. 



COUPLETS 235 

WEALTH 

Ah, but the power of wealth deters mankind 
From many a thought of nature he might find! 

ART AND POVERTY 

Art unto poverty her face must turn, 
Herself create, the world her effort spurn! 
1902. 

LOVE 

Give me but love, ideal, undeterred; 

And to the heavenly sphere my soul is stirred! 

WORK 

Not in this world may man find fairy bowers : 
By work alone shall he attain his powers. 

SUCCESS 

Claim but success, and count it all thine own. 
The world shall follow, and the gods atone. 

1902. 



236 COUPLETS 

POETRY 

The art Divine, the highest thought of man: 
Woo it, aHke possess it if you can. 

PAINTING 

Give unto Painting beauty, strength subhme; 
Color to thoughts that from the soul shall climb. 

SCULPTURE ^ 

Carve me the marble statue of the Greek: 
Something divine, although it may not speak ! 

MUSIC 

The melodies of Nature, knov^n to Pan, 
Revealed, attuned, attributed to man. 

1902. 

^ Variation : Carved out of marble, statues by the Greek ; 
Something divine, that needs but life to speak ! 



► 



LETTERS IN VERSE 



A LETTER ^ 

to mrs. p and mrs. b- 

Dear Mrs. P and Mrs. B 



A tale of woe is this, from me : 
Music, our Muse, revered, divine. 
That cheereth when our hearts repine, 
FHes from my presence; and despair 
Fills now my soul — and tears my hair! 

Picture my misery, noble friends. 
When the inspired Orpheus sends 
His sweet sounds — softer than the air 
Of summer — wan with ceaseless care, 
I still remain without his groves. 
Filled with pale imageries and loves! 

In this sad mood from cares I flee. 
To those whom I had thought would be 
Fair Consolation and Repose 
From these dark, self-abandoned woes. 

* This letter, written to two ladies celebrated not only for their wit but 
for their musical talents, was a humorous request that they should play to 
the writer some of the music of Beethoven, Mozart, and Bach. 



240 LETTERS IN VERSE 

May I then once but lightly tread 
Your hill, and there my soul re-wed 
To Music, and my heart to joy. 
As you your wondrous arts employ. 

Ah, let me one short hour recline. 
While you pour forth those sounds divine. 
That turn our shadows into light. 
Destroying phantoms of the night. 

Long have I wished to list awhile 
To those whose sounds the hours beguile. 
Long have I tried to shower in vain 
Light fancies over flattery's train. 
Long have I lived, but to decline 
In poesy's favor and repine! 
Long have I suffered; now I pray 
That I may hear these Muses play! 

Beethoven sounds grave nature's horn. 
Mozart throws light o'er pathways worn. 
Bach hath dehghted ears grown cold. 
Pass but once more some passage old. 

Ah, noble Muses, thus you see 
A suppliant kneeling — little me — 
Thirsting but for a favor'd hour 
To waft my soul from tree to tower. 

Hearts are not cold beneath such grace. 



LETTERS IN VERSE 241 

Souls have shone through the passing face. 
Notes sound within us; as without 
Music shall melancholy flout. 

Play but once to these eager ears: 
Then shall my Muse dispel vain fears. 
Let verse thus advocate my whim; 
And gratitude mine eyes shall dim. 

1898. 

A LETTER 

to a lady, after missing an appointment 
for church 

My dear Miss D 

Admonish me! 
I woke to-day, long after eight. 
Crying aloud, "Too late, too late!" 

For thus so truly Morpheus arms 
His guards, that he perforce becalms 
The senses — and religion's air, 
That would to church with lady fair. 

What shall I say, or write, or do. 
To be forgiven now by you ^ 
Sleep is but Nature's homely law; 



242 LETTERS IN VERSE 

And man was made with many a flaw. 
Then, if we live, we are but human, 
Forgiveness doth belong to woman! 
Now, since upon my bended knee, 
Repentingly, I fain would be 
Still earnest, though asleep I lie. 
Pray pass my misdemeanor by. 

1898. 

A LETTER 

sent on christmas eve, with an ode to 
anacreon 

Dear Mrs. R and dear Miss C 



These lines of rather faulty knowledge 
(Acquired nor at school nor college), 
Congratulations bear from me. 

Ringing a merry Christmas chime. 
They carry with their tune a rhyme. 
Not worthless, and not yet subHme! 
They fly from country into town, 
And seek at last to gain renown 
For one whose pile of growing songs 
Depict hfe's many joys or wrongs. 



LETTERS IN VERSE 243 

Full many a time I 've sought to find 
Something, around your hearts to wind. 
But now I send this tiny ode 
(To fair Anacreon's fancy owed), 
Produced far from your genial board, 
Yet thinking of its generous hoard. 

Prithee, dear ladies, take these lines. 
And may they mingle with your wines. 
Upon them cast one fleeting look. 
And, better still — just read my book! 

I've carried to these wooded dells 
Of Sudbury's slope, a thought that dwells,^ 
And sinks in memory's softer eyes. 
Like to ambrosia from the skies. 
May the new year its happiest days 
Bring to these hostess' of my lays. 
Then, were there pleasure more than meet 
To join with viands, than to treat 
Our souls to gentlest wit the while. 
Or Epicurus to beguile .? 

1899. 

^ This letter was written from Longfellow'*s famous Wayside Inn, im- 
mortalized by him in the Tales of a Wayside Inn. It is situated at 
South Sudbury, near Boston. 



244 LETTERS IN VERSE 

A LETTER 

TO THE POET BUTTERWORTH 

(^Written at Christmas time from the Wayside Inn') 

Dear Friend, now many weeks I 've waited 
(My thought of you not yet abated), 
To hear your footsteps o'er the floor. 
That creaks and bends about my door. 
That echoes many a soul now gone,^ 
And many a deed by hero done! 
Indeed, this Inn has not yet seen 
Your form since in it I have been. 

And yet your spirit haunts the room. 
Where you had promised once to come. 
Then take these words that wish you well; 
For many an idle tale I 'd tell. 

My first-born child — a book — I send. 
Ere the New Year a moon may bend. 
I pray you keep it near your heart, 

1 When writing these lines the author was occupying a room at the Way- 
side Inn, used by Longfellow. The Inn was the haunt of many famous men, 
including Emerson, Hawthorne, and others. 



LETTERS IN VERSE 245 

And let your favor find some part; 
Coming too late for Christmas eve, 
Yet at your door good cheer 't would leave. 
May Time his blessings to you show, 
And to your soul some joy bestow! 

1899. 

A LETTER 

TO AN UNCONSCIONABLE FLIRT 

Fair damsel, bathed in beauty's smile. 
Wherewith the playful hours beguile 
In coquetry their light possessor. 
Hie to your guardian or confessor! 

Yet, in captivity your eyes 
Play havoc with your swains, and sighs 
Too deep for happiness reveal 
The gentle agony they feel. 
Then would I wisely hold without 
This charmed circle — little doubt. 
With what sincere regard I flee — 
Your friend, but not your swain to be ! 
I cannot, will not come to tea. 

Then pray forgive this frank admission. 



246 LETTERS IN VERSE 

Let wisdom grant its own decision, 
And keep me from this false position. 

How many stalwart friends have I, 
Now sick of love, content to die, 
Their lives despoiled of happiness; 
Yet not allowed one small caress! 

How many swains are wounded, hurt, 
By an unconscionable FHrt! 

Then take from man his fairest gift. 
The love that should his soul uplift. 
The fullness of his life's desire; 
And leave him, hapless, to expire! 
Not this for me, fair careless dame! 
My life is far too dull and tame 
For such gay birds with plumage bright. 
Who find Despair a pleasing sight. 

'T is well enough to gaze afar. 
And watch the glimmer of thy star. 
Go forth, to revel in the air, 
With those that love yet do not care. 

1902. 



Printed at the Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass,, U.S. A, 



IN PREPARATION 

The following volumes to appear successively when 
complete, uniform with " The Spirit of Love and 
other Poems." 

Love Sonnets. 

This volume is expected to be ready for publication 
during 1907. 

Odes and Elegies. 

About one half the number of these poems have 
already been written. The remainder, it is ex- 
pected, will be completed in time for publication 
during 1908. 

Dialogues and Satires. 

It is hoped that this volume will be complete and 
ready for publication in 1909. 



n 



DEC 5 1906 



